Tywin's Ward
by Kalendeer
Summary: I was ten years old when I moved to Casterly Rock, and to my eyes, Lord Tywin Lannister was the purest knight. Then I grew up, and nothing changed.
1. Prologue : How I met Tywin Lannister

**Author's notes**: Welcome on the Tywin's Wars airplane! There may be some turbulence since the author is not a native English speaker. She hopes her fanfiction is still readable, and won't be angry, annoyed or overly sad if you, dear reader, decide to correct some mistakes, as long as you do it kindly.

During the flight, you may encounter characters such as Tywin Lannister, his brothers (allof them, because Tygett and Gerion also need a lot of love), bits of Cersei and Jaime and probably, some Tyrion too. If you like Lannisters, please do read! If you don't like Lannisters, please do read as well, because that's no good reason.

If you still want to board this flight, we will be departing now…

* * *

I was ten when I moved to Casterly Rock.

I remember these days very clearly. My father had died two weeks before, apparently from an heart attack, and Lord Tywin had come in person to the funerals. It was highly unusual. Our lands of Fairkeep were hardly rich, our castle rather small, and he and my father had not been friends. I was, however, immensely impressed when Tywin sat with me in my father's chamber and told me how sorry he was for me and my sisters. We were now orphans, for our mother had died a few years earlier, birthing the fourth girl of the family. But I, the lady of Fairkeep, had nothing to fear: Tywin would arrange for me and my sisters to come with him to Casterly Rock, where he would provide for us, protect us while his men kept Fairkeep safe for me, so that no one would try to steal my lands or take advantage of my position.

Of course, at this time, I saw Tywin's arrival as providential. I had lost my doting father and found myself alone with his knights and three, crying and wholly useless sisters. It was obvious I couldn't manage Fairkeep, and even more obvious, Tywin told me gently, that as soon as I would be old enough, many men of dubious morality and reputation would try to approach me and force me into some kind of horrid wedding. Impressive as he was, and my suzerain, I failed to see his own interest in the matter and perceived only benevolence on his part.

So we buried my father, packed our belongings and followed Lord Tywin Lannister back to Casterly Rock, while he left one of his men to rule in my stead.

I had, of course, never seen anything as great as this city in my whole life, and felt all the more prouder since Tywin had allowed, no, encouraged me to ride near him while he entered his city. He explained the castle itself was called Casterly Rock, while everything under the walls belonged to Lannisport. Everything was so _clean_, the stone of the houses and walls so _white_ and, first and foremost: it was the first time I saw _paved_ streets. The Lannister's Hold was at least ten times grander than Fairkeep, a very large castle with gardens sprawling on terraces, as if the place was hugging the rocky hill with stony arms and flowery, green sleeves. A septa would latter tell me that the gardens had been built on the orders of Lady Joanna, already dead for eight years when I arrived; Tywin cared little for flowers and trees. The main yard was so big Fairkeep would fit inside, and for the first time of my life I had my own room instead of sharing with my sisters.

I was Tywin's ward, but I hardly ever saw him at the beginning. I was schooled with a Septa and the other highborn girls, all of whom were awed by Cersei, Tywin's beloved and beautiful daughter. Aged fifteen, she was in an awfull mood most of the time; I was told it was because her brother Jaime had joined the Kingsguard, and her father refused to acknowledge her as the heir of Casterly Rock since he had a son, Tyrion, which he hated with burning passion. To me, however, everything was far simpler. Cersei was beautiful, sharp minded and had been to King's Landing; she was older than me, the daughter of my Lord, very charming when she wanted to. She was perfection, even when angered, for was that not the proof she was willful? I dreamed of trading my chestnut fluffy hair for hers, my flat chest for her marvelous curves, my shyness for her strength. To mimic her, I hated her brother.

Then Cersei left, when I was thirteen, and things changed.

A few weeks after her wedding, I was called to Tywin's office. I had been there a few times already, usually because he wanted to report to me what was done in Fairkeep. I knew it was a mean to teach me, but since it involved telling me everything about hanging or cutting the hands of thieves, it was hardly the best time of the week. This time, however, Tywin sat me by the huge oak table in the middle of the room, not in front of his large desk. Parchment, quills and a huge book with no title lay in front of me.

I felt him behind me, lowering above my shoulder as he opened the book. My breath caught in my throat.

"This," he said with his deep, clear voice. "Is the double-entry bookkeeping system."

Columns of numbers lined up in front of me. Tywin flipped the pages, all covered with his or Kevan's neat writing.

"Beginning now, you will study with my Maester. He will teach you more advanced mathematics and the History of the great Houses in a far more detailed way. Once a week I will check your progresses myself and, unless you are lagging behind, we will study a subject which I deem relevant for your education. By the end of this year, I want you to be able to use perfectly this bookkeeping system and deal with other aspects of administration."

I nodded and felt a shudder in my spine. I was almost dizzy with pride, that Tywin would spend so much time and efforts on me. I craned my neck, searching for his eyes, and breathed a "Thank you, my Lord", hoping with all my heart it conveyed how grateful I was. "For everything you're doing for me."

He didn't smile, but I didn't expect him to. Tywin Lannister never smiled, at least with his mouth; somehow, it seemed to reach his eyes, at least in the split second when our gazes locked. Then they went cold again. "Lady Esteill, what liege would I be if I didn't take good care of my wards?"

In my eyes, his sudden humility made him all nobler. He was my white knight, he had said so -bound to protect me, teach me, perhaps make me as great as his golden Cersei. Of course, I was far to naïve to understand that I had a teenage crush on Lord Tywin Lannister, the man who was, perhaps, the less likely to return my feelings and was old enough to be my father. In response, I dedicated myself to my studies, even though I had no gift at all for math and had to spend hours struggling with numbers. I was better at history, something Tywin quickly understood, and from then on we engaged in hot debates, leaving me exhausted more often than not.

One evening, we sat in his study in silence after he sent his cupbearer away, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to begin with whatever lesson he had devised. I was startled when he finally open his mouth.

"I never told you about Joanna, did I?"

I hesitated. It was well known Tywin still grieved about her. I was swimming in dangerous waters.

"No, my Lord."

"But surely, you heard rumors about her, didn't you ?"

"Yes, my Lord. The Septa, and some other older women..." I knew what he expected from me. Tywin loathed cowardice and a half answer wouldn't do. "They told me she was beautiful. That you loved her. That... that while you ruled the Kingdom, _she_ ruled you."

"And you expect me to be angry about these rumors."

It wasn't a question. He probably knew anyway that some men snickered about it -the proud, powerful Lannister, cowering in front of his lioness, submissive to her whims. Other, kinder or more respectful ones said it with voices full of sadness.

"These people are fools. I was -am- never ashamed of the rank Joanna held while she was alive. She was not only my wife. She counseled me more wisely than any man could, including Kevan. Some thought I was weak, that a woman should not be allowed to speak. You should never let them persuade you of this. A strong man will never fear his wife; never feel threatened by her mind. Only the weak and the ill-educated cannot understand this."

His piercing gaze fell on me, appraising me.

"Do you understand why I am telling you this?"

"I am not... have you found a match for me? My Lord? To marry me?"

_But I don't want to marry anyone. I wish I could marry _you_._

But he shook his head. "Not yet. One day, yes, I will provide a fine husband for you, but not so soon. You have not flowered yet, am I wrong?"

My cheeks turned red, but I nodded.

"I thought so. You are too young anyway. When I will give you away, I want to be sure Fairkeep will be well managed. That you will know how to tend to everything while your husband his away, or sick, or too lazy. I want your children to be well bred, so that your daughters may be faithful friends to Cersei's, and your sons good servants of hers and the Rock."

"It is your best interest, then. Everything you're teaching me..."

"No one does anything out of goodwill, Esteill. No one. I am teaching you because I want your soldiers, the strength of your house backing me."

I felt it was not only that, but the rest he wouldn't say. It was meaningful, his timing: he had started to teach me personally when Cersei married and left him. But he wouldn't say he missed her, or Joanna. I was strangely touched that he would speak of her, to me and me alone. How many had heard such confidences from his mouth? It was so unlike him to raise personal matters!

"Speaking of marriage," he said, rather bluntly. "You will need to learn how to please your husband. How to... make him love you. To work with him. It is essential if you ever seek to hold some power."

If I thought I was red before, I was mistaken : my hears warmed uncomfortably, as did my throat. Tywin looked resolutely away from me, at the fire.

"Passion. Passion is a mistake, know this. Passion fades and makes you dumb. Look at Rhaegar Targaryen. Look at Lyanna Stark, or even King Robert. You are young and may feel like giving in to it. _Don't_. Ever. Built it patiently. Do not go too fast, or you will scare your man. You, women, know a lot about feelings, and understand them well. Men do not. We are slower to grasp those things, so you must give him time. Reassure him. Learn to like his flaws, teach him that he _needs_ you. It is a subtle work, one requiring time and stamina. What you seek at the end of it is respect. Not passion. _Respect_."

With a sign of his hand, he instructed me to pour him a glass of as blood, it shone by the light of the fire; he turned the glass, as if fascinated by the liquid inside, lost in memories of red. Memories, perhaps, of death and child birth.

"I don't think I ever told Cersei or Jaime about how I met Joanna."

He didn't include Tyrion ; he never did.

"It was at a feast. He knew her before that, of course. She was my cousin, after all, but young boys don't speak to younger girls. I had to dance with her and she bothered me with how her father had his Maester teach her brother Stafford, and she wasn't allowed anymore because he wanted her to be pretty and futile, and it was so unjust since her brother was dumber than a chicken whereas she was gifted. At the end she made me promise that I would teach her myself, and I agreed because I felt she would never leave me alone unless I did."

"She was right, actually. She was gifted in math. I was older but she quickly became much, much better than I was. She was the first woman to really impress me, and I had been partly educated at King's Landing with Prince Aerys Targaryen, so my standards were high, mind you. I was better when it came to debates, though she could sometimes defeat me quite soundly. It felt like _fencing_, talking with her." In this single word, suddenly, there were enormous feelings ; a spark in Tywin's voice, a glimpse of a marvellous past, long lost and regretted. As if no one, these days, could fence with him like he did with her.

I could finally see why he was so frustrated with people. With the idiots who believed they could talk with him, but did not follow half of what he truly said. With the cowards who told him what they believed he wanted to hear. With his children who looked like her but could not compare. With those who did not want to climb to his level, with those who could but were his enemies.

Then, he surprised me : "Of all my children, only _Tyrion _as her mind." He spat the name, but still, it rang as truth. "Jaime, he has her look, yes. But sometimes I see my father in him, rather than Joanna or I. Cersei... Cersei, I believe, she is like me, but this is not..." He closed his eyes and sipped the wine. "I would have made the worst lady, don't you think? Cersei, she wishes she could yield a sword, wear the crown herself. She dislikes how she has to please men, for them to give her power. She loathes how she has to play this game of being a Lady. Do you?"

"Dislike being a Lady?"

"Obviously." He was annoyed; I was too slow, not aggressive enough, perhaps.

"No. I don't want to yield a sword, but Fairkeep is mine by birth. I don't want to see my husband rule what is mine. Not without me."

"Exactly. Which is my..."

"You are teaching me the game."

"Yes."

"So that I can be like Joanna was."

He flinched.

"No." He glared at me then. A chilling, icy glare. "There won't be a Joanna again, not now, not ever."


	2. Chapter 1 : The Lysa Conspiracy

First, I would like to thank Countess De Los Rios, Susanne023, Akemi Tatsuyoshi, Nightshadekiller and Catherine Alice. I hope you will enjoy this new chapteras I did, since it was very fun to write.

**Chapter 1 : The Lysa Conspiracy**

After a short winter, Lord Tywin Lannister visited his daughter in King's Landing.

I accompanied him as an anonymous member of his host. I wasn't told why he was travelling there. Officially, he visited the royal family to meet baby Joffrey, his first grandchild, but everyone suspected the trip wasn't just a social call. I knew he would have no time to spare for me; I had, however, received instructions, carried by one of his squires, ordering me to spend time with Cersei and her ladies and to _listen. _I guessed he wanted to know who she was seeing and if she was happy.

I cannot say my performance was stunning.

Tywin always insisted that, as the Lady of Fairkeep, I should dress according to what my lands could provide. He had shown me once how he calculated what was due for my personal living : what wasn't in use for the demesne itself, or for the repair and modernization of the castle (he had ordered this, as part of all the liberties he obviously took in my name) ; what he did not keep for my sisters' dowries ; what he did not put aside in case of disasters such as storms, flood or drought ; what did not go to the construction of the new port, to transform one of my villages into a small, bustling fishing and merchant city. What was left was shared between my sisters and I, and even if Tywin was kind of generous in gifts (he had offered a horse to each of us for our birthdays), I felt for the first time the pang of poverty when I compared my clothes and jewel to those of the ladies of the Court. I may have been put my wits and education above beauty, I could not help but feel profoundly hurt every time I heard one of them snicker.

I was sixteen, usually the age at which young ladies get engaged. Cersei was twenty-one and had been married for three years. When I first joined her and her ladies, in a solar with a sea-view, she had her one year and a half son Joffrey on her knees. She looked tremendously happy and clearly in love with the child.

She introduced me to her friends with surprising kindness since she hardly ever cared for me at the Rock. I had only been the youngest pup in the kennel and I had expected her to have forgotten all about me.

"Ladies, let me introduce Lady Esteill of Fairkeep. She has been my father's ward for some years now, and pupil too, if I'm not mistaken?"

I had no idea how she knew. I couldn't image Tywin writing to her about my classes. It downed on me that she may have been asking by letters to other relatives or friends how her father fared, who he saw and who he talked to. The notion was disturbing. I shook it off: of course Tywin wrote to her, and of course he could have mentioned he was tutoring me. If not him, then one of her uncles could have done it, either Kevan, Tygett or young Gerion who, after all, was not much older than Cersei.

"No, you are right, my Lady." I tried my best curtsey, and was pleased when it proved satisfactory. "I am very grateful of you father, for all the good graces he bestowed upon me."

"Has he already set his mind on your future husband ?"

I answered that I did not know, that Lord Tywin mostly kept to his own counsel. The question unsettled me, since I often wondered about this matter and never dared to ask Tywin.

"Good. Pray that he never does. Husbands are the bane of a woman's life. Look at my dear Lysa Arryn. The poor thing..." She patted fondly Joffrey's head. "Thankfully, after the horror of childbirth, we still have our babies. Well, most of us do."

She asked me for gossips from Casterly Rock. I indulged her, and by the end of the hour, she knew who married whom, who gave birth and who was in disgrace. She listened with mixed feeling of carefully hidden nostalgia and obvious boredom; if not for fugitive glances or small twitches of her mouth, I would have guessed she did not care at all. I was relieved when she turned to another matter, that is, the birth of Oberyn Martell's _fourth_ official bastard daughter. True, the girl was a few months old now, but Cersei had only now received a new lady-in-waiting from Sunspear and was all too happy to criticize the Martell's debauchery.

I was utterly fascinated, for at the Rock, Tywin would never have tolerated anything of the sort. I knew his brother Gerion was rather fond of girls, but he was always discreet about his lavish frequentations, careful not to cross his Lord, and was an exception: Kevan was so in love with his wife it almost hurts, and Tygett, even though Darlessa was drunk half the time and despite his taste for untasteful jokes, was known for his fealty toward her. Of course I knew not all families were as virtuous as the Lannisters, but I had been sheltered from such scandals.

At the end of the afternoon, Joffrey started to wail loudly. Cersei left the child to a nurse and gave free quarters to her ladies. She wished to show me around the garden to hear more about her family, but once there, I discovered the true reason behind this walk.

"Since you are new here, I will ask a small favor of you. Do you know who Lady Lysa Arryn is ?

"Is she the young woman with the blue dress? The one who was seated not far from the throne, with red hair?"

"Yes. Members of the court don't sit, but for the king or the elderlies, but Lady Arryn was bestowed this special _honor_. She has trouble conceiving, you see, and Jon Arryn thinks the causes are physical weakness and fatigue. I, however, have another theory. I know Lysa sneaks regularly to the city to buy cosmetics. I bet she's buying less savory potions too. I would like you to help me prove it."

She bent her fine, lean waist to grab a pink rose. She had grown prettier and the setting sun put her golden hair on fire. Yet for all her beauty her words smelled like foul play. She may be thinking of someone else's safety, or she may not. A breath of air carried the rose's scent to me; rich, lovely and sweet. Its petals were as pale as Cersei's skin. I could imagine her skin, as soft and perfect as this rose.

But then, roses were cruel flowers, with needles and swords sticking out of their body.

"Pardon my asking, Lady Cersei, but how I am supposed to find these proofs?"

She tilted her hair so that it would cascade on her back, a lovely, almost flirty gesture.

"Follow her. She should go tomorrow morning" she explained patiently. "And try to get in the shop and listen. She doesn't know you. Dress simply and she won't even know you're there."

Yes, foul play indeed.

Still, I did as I was told. I put on some bland clothes of my servant. The young girl concealed my hair under a plain, cream scarf, as it was done by the most respectable, unmarried girls. Then I left the Red Keep and waited. My servant would wait for my return and convince the guards I had every right to be there, despite my plain clothes.

Thankfully, Lysa Arryn was overly nervous but in no way discreet, which allowed me to follow her with some ease. Had I been stalking someone with some skills or imagination, I would have been caught: I was as credible as a peasant as Tyrion would as a squire, and my infiltration technics were completely inexistent.

I followed Lysa when she entered a small shop clustered with herbs and powders. I could not help but drink the view and scent like I would a heavy wine: small baskets displayed all sorts of pepper and spices, some red, other a rich yellow, all with their own, pleasant smell. Green, dried bouquets hang from the low ceiling, creating a natural curtain. Once inside the single room one would find himself in a comfortable penumbra, the light coming through the herbs. I spotted glasses bottles of an average quality, but filled with all sort of weird wonders. I shivered when I spotted what looked like a dead kitten floating in a green liquid.

Lysa and her servant shot me a mistrustful glance. What was I supposed to do? I had expected this eventuality but had prepared nothing in anticipation. My cheeks reddened. I stammered some kind of apology and feigned to be fascinated by a shelf of jars. Lysa soon whispered (rather loudly, actually) that I was of no importance. I felt her servant's glare on my back; obviously, _that_ girl knew better than her mistress, but did not dare (or want to) speak up right now.

I heard someone's footsteps, someone heavier than the skinny Lady of the Vale. Then a female, deep voice rang out and the two women chattered. Lysa asked for products I recognized: a powder made from rocks which was used as whitening foundation; a vinegar from the Arbor, very prized by high ranking ladies for their hair; a red pigment from Essos to paint pale cheeks pink, and other expensive products denied to me, not because I couldn't afford them, but because Tywin found it vulgar on young, fresh and unmarried women. I was beginning to think Lysa had nothing to hide at all and was just a nutter when the conversation dropped to a low murmur I could not understand. Finally, Lysa got what she wanted, paid and left the shop.

And I did not know what she had bought.

I turned to face the shop keeper. She was a fat, red faced woman with greying hair, with dark eyes and thick lips. She asked what I wished for, her tone amiable enough, though she lacked the clean politeness of someone used to talk to higher borne people.

"I..."

I was ashamed and embarrassed. How could I ask her what Lysa was bringing back to the castle? I would be too suspect and she would refuse.

"... I would like the same. As the Lady."

My cheeks turned a dark pink again. I lowered my eyes and prayed the Seven I would never have to do something so shameful again.

The shop keeper nodded. "Stay here, girl." She came back a moment later with a small bag. "Here. Ya never took some before, yes ?"

"N-no," I stammered again. Of course I hadn't, I had no damning idea about... "No, never."

"If ya're not pregnant yet, then no one will know. Don't take too much, no more than one leaf a time. If ya're pregnant ya will bleed some bit, and bleed more the more ya wait."

"I'm not pregnant," I answered, trying not to sound indignant.

She did not seem to care.

"Then ya won't be. I don't care why ya want it for, as long as ya pay. Remember: one leaf a time only."

I paid with some of the money Cersei had given me, put the little bag in my servant's leather bag, thanked her and left.

I was elated. My mission was a success!

Or at least, it was, until I got caught by Tywin's chief of the guards.

The man had known me since I was ten. My disguise fooled him at first glance, but something must have nagged him: he walked past me as I left the shop, then stopped, turned, stared. His eyes widened and, one second later, he was seizing my arm and ready to go back to the Red Keep.

So much for my career as a spy...

I was brought back to Tywin's apartments and left there to wait. These few hours felt like days until he finally showed up. I had missed diner and my belly was rumbling uncomfortably, but what was worse was that I hadn't been allowed to change and was still wearing my servant's clothes.

"_Who is he?_" He sat behind his desk, tensed, ready to strike. Predator-like. "_Who is the man you're sleeping with?_"

I was taken aback. The idea seemed so ludicrous I had not even thought of it, yet it was, of course, the most plausible explanation for my little farce.

"No one. I'm not..."

"**Don't lie to me !**" he _screamed_. He had never screamed at me before; never. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, but his eyes still filled with fury. "Do you think you can make a fool out of me? Do you think you can go fuck whoever you're fucking, and I won't know? After everything I did for you, you would **dare** lie to me?"

"I'm not... fucking," my tongue felt dirtied by the profanity, "anyone."

His eyes reduced to a slit, he observed me with a deadly concentration. If he had suddenly barred his teeth, he wouldn't have surprised me.

Finally, he lashed a single word like one would lash a whip: "Explain."

I gulped.

"I wasn't buying the moon tea for my own use. I was following Lysa Arryn and had to buy some to know what _she_ wanted."

It sounded like the worst excuse ever.

"Why?"

"Queen Cersei asked me. She knew Lysa Arryn was going to this shop and wanted to know what she was buying there."

"Why would Cersei want to know about this?"

"She didn't tell."

Silence.

"Do you have any proof? That Lysa Arryn _is_ buying moon tea?"

"I suppose the shop keeper..."

"Will know nothing and deny she's selling moon tea in the first place."

"Only my words then."

"You're a young, unmarried Lady who was found in the street dressed as a serving girl with abortive drug in her bag. Your words are worthless, especially when compared to Lysa Arryn's, who is the _Hand's wife_." His lips thinned to a hard line. "I expected better of you. And I can't know if you're telling the truth. I'll have a Septa check that you're still the virtuous maiden you claim to be."

My breath stuck in my throat. I could not believe Tywin, who was the nearest thing I had from a father now, would mistrust me to this point. Worse, someone may know, and then no one would ever believe I was untouched; or the septa may tell him my maidenhead was already broken, which could be the case since I was often riding in the man-like fashion, and then, what would he think? I thought the man liked, _respected_ me.

"No."

An eyebrow rose in disbelief.

"What did you say?"

"No. I won't agree with a Septa _checking me_, as you say."

"I am not asking you whether you want it to happen or not. It will," he affirmed.

"I am not your _daughter_. I am the Lady of Fairkeep and you have no business..."

"You will drop that insolent tone immediately," he warned, "You are my ward, **my** to marry, and I won't accept any doubt regarding your morality. If it is found lacking, then it is I, as you protector, who will bear the shame. I won't allow you to tarnish the honor of my house. Is that clear?"

"What is clear is that you distrust me for absolutely no reason at all!"

"Enough. Llewyn!"

The door of the office opened, revealing the head of Tywin's personal guard. I shut my mouth and set my jaw, determined not to back off, but I knew I was fighting a cliff with bare fingers.

"The young Lady is going to bed. Escort her to her room."

Just like that. I wasn't a child to be commanded, and yet, I knew -again- that I couldn't do anything to resist Tywin. The thought enraged me and for the first time of my life, I felt like a prisoner. In a spark of anger, my hand flew to the desk, grabbed the inkpot and threw it to Tywin's face.

He closed his eyes instinctively. The ink dotted his face and splattered on his deep red velvet vest. It would be spoilt forever, I thought as I left the room, immediately followed by Llewyn. I hoped it was one of his favorites, because I would definitely come to regret this gesture.

On the morrow, I had decided to let Tywin have his way. I had no way to refuse the examination and my persistence would only anger him. He was right: I was his to marry. I had no doubt that pushed too far, he would give me to the first brute he wished to favor.

It was quick, as painless as it was embarrassing. The Septa was around forty and motherly. She promised no one would know, whatever the result, that Lord Lannister had been very insistent, and he had been assured his will would be done. I wasn't thankful. Relieved by her promises, a bit; but I was far from ready to pardon Tywin. And then twice relieved when the Septa confirmed my maidenhead was intact.

I wasn't surprised when I received an invitation to dine with him. However I was astonished when, once there, he acted as if absolutely no apology was to be made. Shameless, he greeted me with the most neutral tone: "So. You told the truth."

As if he had never doubted it. And then: "You look awful tonight. What did you do to your hair?"

Since I couldn't rebel, I had decided to look as grim as possible instead. I had acquired a black, high buttoned dress which hid me from toes to neck, and had neglected the elegant hairstyle I favored for a tight braid, pinned up in a strict bun. I wore no jewel, even my favorite pendant, the little golden seahorse he had offered me for my thirteenth birthday.

"I did not want to look like I want to seduce or please anyone, My Lord."

"And so you look like you're mourning instead," he mocked me. "We need to know if Lysa Arryn bought moon tea before. She could have done so just this once, for a servant of her or a friend. We need to be assured she buys it regularly. Tomorrow, you will go back to the shop, disguised. You will offer a golden dragon to the shop keeper, or up to two if he tries to negotiate. I will have two men of my guard dressed as civilians to protect you. You won't tell Cersei, and if she asks, you weren't able to follow Lysa the first time."

This time, my mission went without any incident. The shop keeper charged two golden dragons and the promise her name wouldn't be given. What used to be a somewhat exotic adventure had turned into a disgusting chore. I wanted nothing more than to be done with it and, scared as I was to face Cersei and lie to her, I spent the rest of the day playing sick in my own room.

I was woken the next morning with strict orders and a new dress, all supplied by one of Tywin's squire. The boy from Crakehall explained I was to accompany our Lord to see the King. Everything had to be done according to Lord Lannister's wishes. I hadn't forgiven him, but once again, there was nothing I could do : Tywin was renowned for his lust for respect and his out of proportions revenges for those who would not give it. Furthermore, this was the King and, before I could help it, the prospect both intrigued and excited me.

Tywin had purchased a simple, high collared dress. The cut reminded me of the black one I wore out of spite, only this time, the color enhanced my blue eyes. Some discreet embroidery added a sense of luxury and an almost white, foam-like scarf to tie around my waist made me look thinner. He had chosen the hairstyle as well, a southron braid pined around my head ; my maid had to pull so hard on my hair to keep them from curling that she brought tears to my eyes.

Then I met the King.

I had seen him from afar since my arrival. King Robert, a tall and physically strong fellow, was an avid jouster. When he wasn't fighting someone in the training field, he would be seen leaving the castle to hunt or to go to the city for whatever he was doing there. Once home, he would order a feast if he felt like it. Sometimes I wondered if he ever found time to work at all. Now that I was only a few meters from him, I could understand why most girls deemed Cersei as "lucky". Black bearded, virile as an ox despite his stag-shaped crown, he had square shoulders, high cheekbones, sensual lips half hidden under his hairs. His black eyes were alert, almost suspicious as he extended a hand toward his "honorable father-in-law", which Tywin accepted. Tywin contrasted strongly with him. He was as tall as Robert, but leaner, almost dry, with a flatter belly and a crown of carefully cut, blond hairs around the line of his jaw. He was older by almost thirty years, but his light green eyes did not yield to the man. Without the crown, someone could even have guessed Tywin was the king, dressed regally as he was in rich red velvet threaded with gold.

We were soon a small group in a closed room, around a round table. Tywin and I sat in front of King Robert, while Jon Arryn stat at his right hand. I was at Tywin's left.

"So. What's the girl doing there?" asked Robert. He motioned a small, mousy cupbearer to fill his glass. The Hand frowned: obviously, he would have wished the meeting to be done with without wine. "I did not know you liked them so young."

Tywin jaw contracted, yet he said nothing, breathed and finally, answered with an icy calm.

"Lady Esteill of Fairkeep is my pupil. She has been tutored in bookkeeping and is the most able to replace the man I intended for today. Who, unfortunately, has fallen sick."

"What a strange idea. Teaching a girl in bookkeeping, I mean." Robert gulped down a big, noisy halve of his glass. "And a bit cruel too, if I may. You shouldn't teach a girl something she will never be asked to use."

"Some men actually _listen_ to their wives," Tywin answered dryly. "Did you call me to King's Landing to criticize the way I tutor my wards?"

At that, an uncomfortable silence took hold of the room, stretched until it filled every corner. Jon Arryn finally emitted a small cough.

"The royal treasury is empty. The Throne would grant you the honor of a loan."

"How can the treasury be _empty_?" asked Tywin in astonishment. "The Crown was not only rich, it was making huge profits when I resigned..."

"It was six years and a war ago!" bellowed Robert, but Tywin ignored him and went on :

"I was the first in King's Landing at the end of the war, which was three years ago, and the treasury was still full. It wasn't pillaged, we had no winter, no war since then. While I do not wish to accuse anyone of mismanagement, it is my right as your vassal to..."

"Oh, please _do_ shut up." Robert emptied what was left of his wine. "More!" He held the cup. A loud, annoyed breath went out of Tywin's nose. He reminded me of a tightly reigned stallion, waiting, wanting to break for a run. "Taxes had been low. People died. I had to rebuild the city you cleverly sacked when _you arrived there first_. I have to keep a strong army or a new war will break out. And I don't have to justify myself to you to ask for the fucking gold you're lazily mining out of the ass of Casterly Rock."

"Please, please, there is no need to quarrel over this," intervened Jon Arryn. Belittled by Robert, with an heavily lined face despite a straight back and awaken gaze, he was easily forgotten when he did not speak.

"The fact is, the King ask you, Lord Tywin, if you would agree to a loan. If not, then when will ask someone else. It is because indeed you know the realm well, and have served it faithfully before that we preferred you above the others."

"How much do you need?"

"Thirty thousand golden dragons."

"Take notes," Tywin ordered me. My quill dipped in the black bottle of ink, reminding me of our own quarrel. "Thirty thousand I can lend. I would however take a forty percent interest rate."

"**Forty** ?" Robert looked like he was going to suffocate.

"Forty is a very high rate, Lord Tywin," answered the Hand in a calm voice. "And would cripple the Crown's treasury when time will come to refund you."

"A low rate would not encourage the Crown to handle wisely its finances."

"But surely, your benevolence and loyalty urge you toward some... leniency."

"To some point, perhaps."

"The Crown will refund you in a two years' time, providing you allow a five percent interest rates."

Tywin raised an eyebrow. Robert was obviously overwhelmed by whatever game the two men were playing.

"I have gold mines, this is true, but thirty thousand dragons is still a big sum. I will have to make sacrifices to allow this loan and then will need the money from the interests to repair the damages."

"But these sacrifices will be less felt if you get the money back sooner," Arryn pointed out.

"They would be smoothened by a fifteen percent interest rate -if indeed, you can assure me you will manage to repay me in two years' time. However, if you can't, perhaps we could make two loans. Let's say ten thousands with a ten percent interest rate, to be refunded in two years, and another one of twenty thousands, to be refunded in five years, with a thirty percent interest rate."

The negotiations continued, propositions launched back and forth. It was obvious both Tywin and Jon Arryn were great negotiators and knew what they were doing; I suspected they even took pleasure in this joust. On the contrary Robert made no effort to follow, and no one tried to get his attention. He drank more and more and finally rose from his chair, declared he would come back to sign whatever agreement was reached and left.

By the time Jon Arryn proposed a pause, my fingers had turned black and I had filled several sheets of paper with propositions and calculations, each sheet with a different plan, each plan with the money Casterly Rock would make. My hand ached, but I was elated. Never in my life had I been so close to power, to two brilliant persons ready to fight and cooperate for the interest of the realm and their own lands. Jon Arryn, despite his less than impressive look, was obviously Tywin's equal in wits and brain.

We rose from the table. Jon Arryn led us to an open balcony overseeing the Nera and long streaks of green fields. There, the conversation shifter to more personal matters: how was Tywin's family faring? Had Jon Arryn finally reached an agreement with his pro-targaryens remaining lords, and had Lady Lysa recovered from her last miscarriage? I was flattered when Jon Arryn extended the courtesy to asking _me_ about my family. Not about my studies, though, and I remembered how displeased by the idea of a woman handling numbers he had been.

"Now, the true reason I took Lady Fairkeep with me today," began Tywin after he waved the servant away, "is that I had heard unfortunate rumors regarding your wife."

Arryn eyes fell on me. His brow furrowed, but he still motioned Tywin to go on.

"Please, my Lady, explain to Lord Arryn what you learned."

I gulped. Just how was I supposed to do that without angering the man?

"I saw you lady wife, My Lord," I said with the humblest voice, "when I was going to a shop, in the city, to buy cosmetics."

"Cosmetics? _You_ wear cosmetics?"

"No, she doesn't," Tywin intervened. "I do not allow her to do so, which is why she tried to get some secretly in the city before she was caught by the chief of my guard. This is how I came to know about this affair."

"Please continue, young Lady."

"I overheard the Lady Lysa. She was buying moon tea."

"Are you sure of this?"

"Quite sure, my Lord. On Lord Tywin's orders I went back to the shop and paid good gold to know more. I learned your Lady has been buying the tea regularly for a year, in doses sufficient for one to be assured of never being pregnant."

Jon Arryn turned to the countryside. His gaze wondered on the green hills as the implication downed on him: that for a whole year, his wife may have been trying to stay barren. I pitied Lysa for getting a husband old enough to be her grandfather, but this was no excuse from her duty. In her place I would have done everything to be done with it quickly, to spawn something and be left alone by the old man.

"I thank you for telling me, Lord Tywin. And now, if this is true, I owe you a favor," he added sourly, but Tywin only shook his head.

"I would not ask you for one, not when like you, I have high hopes for children to come." He continued, answering Jon's questioning glare: "With Jaime in the Kingsguard and my other son's... deformity, I hoped Cersei would father many grandchildren. I have heard, however, troubling rumors concerning her marriage. Rumors which threaten these hopes."

"I will talk to Robert. Again," Arryn said. "But you have to know Cersei is not without guilt."

"I will have a talk with her, then, and hope that with our joint efforts, the realm will soon gain a few more sons."

"I needn't worry. Things will get better." He sighed. "We should get back to work, before Robert comes back and accuses us of laziness."

They finally agreed on a complicated loan in three parts, with clauses ensuring more money for the Lannisters if the Crown was late in payments. Tywin was pleased and declared himself ready to return to Casterly Rock. He called Cersei for a last meeting, the evening before his departure.

A thunderous meeting indeed.

I had the misfortune of being in the vicinity when she arrived. Regal in bearing, she pinned me to the wall with her glare alone and called me a traitorous weasel. I did not have the time to answer, and I would not have since I knew this to be true: Tywin opened the door to his apartments at this precise moment, saving me from his furious daughter.

"Esteill is not to blame for your carelessness and lack of subtlety," he said, his face a mask of severity. "What were you thinking, sending a young girl to the city? We can be thankful nothing happened to her, or that she wasn't caught in the first place..." then the door closed and I could hear only muffled sounds, though they were quickly escalating toward a shooting match.

I packed my things and, the next morning, we left King's Landing.


	3. Chapter 2: The red sewn books

I'd like to thank my new followers and those who favorited the story: Artemis' hunters, 2L d'R, Lucindarella, HermioneandMarcus, Vilkacis and AnimeOtakuBara.

Specials thanks to: HermioneandMarcus and an anonymous guest for your kind reviews.

I would like to add, again, that English is not my mother tong. I sometime feel my sentences do not have a natural feel, or my wording a bit repetitive, so do not hesitate if you have anything to say regarding my English. I will not only correct my mistakes but be very happy to do so as well.

I hope you will like this chapter!

**Chapter 2: Thousands of names in a red sewn book**

As we made our way back to Casterly Rock, I could not help but ask. Cersei's word were nagging at the back of my mind and I felt foolish, a sixteen years old woman, old enough to be married, perhaps already promised, but plagued with an utter lack of curiosity.

I was surprised. Envisioning my wedding had been a sweet fairytale for many cold, winter nights when I was smaller. I still wondered about it from time to time. I would wear a beautiful dress of green, blue and white, my family's colors, along with embroideries of true silver. My hair would be fantastic, braided with flowers and pearls and ribbons. My cloak would of course have the rearing white stag, strong and menacing, yet not as fearful as Tywin's lion. Of course my Lord was here, in my dreams, as the one who walked me to my faceless groom. Yes; I knew I wanted flowers everywhere, a grant banquet and a harness with golden bells for my horse. I knew I wanted to eat swan with honey and berries, salmon in herbs and whole bowls of fruits. I knew exactly how my sisters should be dressed. What I did not know was the most important: who I actually wanted to marry, whether I wanted him to be handsome or intelligent, rich or kind, a great warrior or a careful planer. No. He was a shadow, the idea of a man, but no man at all.

We rode slowly on the Golden Road, so I only had to push my chestnut mare to a small trot to join Tywin, at the front of the column.

"May we speak privately, my Lord ?"

His gazed had been set on the horizon, unfocused. He nodded quickly and motioned his mounted guards to spread and give us space.

"Have you already decided who I'm to marry?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"And why would you ask about this subject _now_?"

I did not know if he meant "this late", or that it wasn't the right time. I answered truthfully that I was bored and curious.

"If you ask because of what you saw of Lysa Arryn's and my daughter's marriage, yes, I have set my mind on someone, even though I can still change my mind, and no, he isn't older than me, a drunk, and do not indulge publicly with whores."

"Are you talking about King Robert?"  
He threw me a hard glare.

"Of course not. Our beloved King is worth my respect and I will never criticize him. I wasn't thinking about anyone in particular."

Of course he was thinking about the King. After the meeting regarding the loan, I understood where Robert found time to work: in Lord Arryn or Lord Stannis's timetable. It was as if the man only dealt with the feasting part of the job. It had been left unsaid that reducing his spending in parties, girls, and tourneys would be a better step for the treasury than usury, but he would have badly reacted. Furthermore, I was persuaded Tywin did not mind at all having the Crown indebted to him.

"So who is he?"

"If I was to tell you, then I wouldn't be free to change my mind anymore."

"No one would know."

"Both of you would know, which is more than I intend."

"Then he knows he is to marry me?"

"No. I bet he suspects it, but right now, he only knows he should not court any woman."

I was suddenly very excited. I was sixteen. I could marry soon, have a husband, have babies as cute as Joffrey. And I would go back to Fairkeep, where everything would be done according to my mind.

"Please. I won't tell. It will be our secret."

"Careful, girl. I know better than to tell any secret to a woman your age."

"Then can I guess?"

"You can ask. I'll give you one question a day, until we arrive at Casterly Rock and if I wish, I will answer. If I refuse, you won't ask until the next morning, so chose carefully."

I frowned. I had dozens of questions, all of which I wanted to ask first, and we had "only" thirteen days until we reached our home.

"Is he handsome?"

"According to most women, yes."

On the second day, Tywin refused to answer: "Do I know him?"  
However, he did on the third: "Is he older than Cersei?" He was.

"Is he a lord?" No, he wasn't.

"Will I like him?" How was he supposed to know?  
"Is he kind?" Kind enough. A real man was not supposed to be as gentle as a maiden, after all.  
"Is he brave?" Yes, to the point of recklessness.  
"What does he likes?" Unfortunately, _girls_. Horses, armor and swords would come close.  
"Does he have any children?" None Tywin was aware of.  
"Is he from a great family?" He refused to answer.  
"Do you think he will like me?" How was he supposed to know?  
"What's his favorite color?" Tywin looked surprised, then thoughtful, then admitted he did not know.  
"Will he be a good Lord to Fairkeep?" He was not a bad man, but lacked patience. Which was why he tutored me in the arts of administration.

I hesitated for the last question, and it was only when the sea, the white sails of the harbor of Lannisport and the red roofs of the lower city came to view that I dared to ask.

"Is my wedding to this man the only reason you made me your ward?"

"Yes."

My blood ran cold. Tywin went on, as if he expected such a reaction.

"This is something you need to know about the world, Esteill. Nothing is ever free. If someone makes a gift, the gift is not real. It is a debt. If you don't gift the man in return with something of equal value, you will lose face. If you give someone a gift he cannot follow, then he will be humiliated or obligated to you. It is the same if someone invites you to a feast: you will have to return the invitation, unless you want to look rude or weaker than him. It is the same for actions. If you help someone, you will expect his loyalty in return, even if he didn't ask for your help in the first place."

"It doesn't mean people are bad. Or I'd rather say, it doesn't mean good people don't exist. Only that even they are doing nothing for free, though a lot of them are not aware of this fact. This is why Jon Arryn wanted to repay the favor immediately. As a man of honor, he would not shy from this duty, yet as an intelligent man as well, he knew that having this kind of lasting debt with me could be dangerous."

"This is why, as well, a lot of people don't understand our words: A Lannister Always Pays His Debts. These are not only a matter of money. They were deserved by those of my forefathers I wanted as models for their ability to honor their debts, in favors or money, and to strike back against any insult or injury. I made them my own both to threaten would-be traitors and for them to understand what kind of honor I have to offer."

"So, you asked me: Did I take you to Casterly Rock, protect your lands, offer you education, only because I knew I would wed you ? The answer is yes. I gave you much for your hand, which I will give to a good man. If you think about it, why would I take in a girl with living parents to take care of her or with nothing to offer?"

"For charity?"

"Would it be better? I cannot offer charity to every orphan. Furthermore, you would have ended up so indebted to me that you would have needed a lifetime of service to repay me. And no, I wouldn't have asked. _You_ would have given your life, freely. Do you think today's revelation stains what I bestowed upon you?"

"Yes," I answered truthfully. "I thought you were... well... a good person. Doing things for the sake of being honorable. To protect the weak."

He looked mildly surprised. Obviously, it wasn't often the Lord Paramount of Casterly Rock was expected to be benevolent.

"Wrong. If you think it stains our relationship, then you understood nothing of today's lesson. It is your vision of the whole world which should be stained, our relationship being only a small fraction of this world. You wanted me to be benevolent, yet you fail to see I was, indeed. I could have married you to a mindless brute or an old man to whom I owed a favor. I didn't and instead gave you all the weapons necessary to rule with your husband. No Lord can be more benevolent without losing something in the bargain. I am no Septon, or Holy Man, and neither are you. Never forget who you are."

We parted as we passed the city gates. Tywin rode at the front with his personal guard while us, the minor lords and his host would go after him. He would probably be on his way to his desk before I could even set a foot on the ground. Even if the thirteen days of travel had made me more athletic, I was grateful for a long bath, a copious diner and an overly long night.

I was invited, the next morning, to tour the docks of Lannisport with Tywin. His father Tytos had renovated parts of the port in his time, but had badly chosen his builders, forcing his son to destroy most of the new infrastructures to build new, non-faulty ones. As he had, in the same time, negotiated lucrative treaties with the Free Cities, Lannisport was now faced with more ships than it could handle. Plans had been made for the drying of a swamp north of the city, or for the construction of a wooden floating city under the cliffs of Casterly Rocks. Tywin had finally settled for a secondary port in Fairkeep where the merchants would unload all products destined for the north of Highgarden and south of his own lands, thus cutting traffic to Lannisport from the ten percent it couldn't handle at the moment. Of course, the plan would work only if I proved able to understand the management of a port (something which wasn't Tywin specialty), if we followed the same track and, of course, if Tywin could trust me not to take advantage of the situation and stick to my ten percent.

Thankfully, it was as if Tywin's absence had spurred his worker's motivation. We found the building ahead of the schedule. Though Lord Lannister never smiled, true to his words of the day before, he commanded the counter master to grant a two days salary allowance to the men and a barrel of wine to be used during lunch. There were no cheers, but a few respectful, pleased thanks. Somehow the workers seemed confident their Lord would reward them for their work but were scared of him in equal measure.

This small victory lured me into believing I could make demands. Tywin seemed pleased enough to go back to Casterly Roc by a slow pace, taking in everything he could from his city ; when in a bad mood, he would rush to his gates to work. But today, today was beautiful, warm, and there was no reason to be overly careful.

"Can I marry now?"

His face remained as stone, but his hands contracted on the reins of his horse.

"No."

"But I would like to!" Surely, if I was convincing enough, he would relent. "You taught me most of what I need. And I only have sisters, non-married. If I was to marry now, I could have a son in a year and a half..."

"No. I said no, Esteill, and I think you know what the word means."

"But _why_? You already know the man, it's been decided for _years_!"

"A month ago, getting married was the last of your worries. I would have..."

"But I want a baby! Cersei has one, you've seen him!"

He shot me a thunderous glare. Interrupting Tywin Lannister was always a bad move. Obviously, bringing Cersei into a debate he did not wish to have was even worse.

"Yes. Cersei has a baby. Did you know Jaime wrote to me when she gave birth? _Father, Cersei's been in that room for one day and she's still there, Father, Cersei's not screaming anymore because she's so tired, Father is she going to die, Father please come to King's Landing ? _But of course I couldn't, because obviously if Cersei had died, she would have long before my arrival. And so I waited until hours and hours and hours later another raven came from Jaime. _Two days of labor in blood and pain_. Yes, Cersei has a baby, and _I_ got the letter of a grown man who discovered women _die_ in childbirth. And do not believe that you're going to escape her fate, silly little girl: _the youngest die more_."

With these last words, he kicked his worse, forcing a group of young women to cower against a wall as he stormed past them. My eyes prickled with tears of hurt, fear and shame; hurt, because I sincerely wanted to be a mother now. Of fear because Tywin would keep this happiness from me, or he was right and I would die. And shame because, obviously, I bring back the painful memories of his wife's death through the near disaster of Cersei's first son ordeal.

I retired to the Sept and knelt in front of the Mother. For the first time since my father's death, my prayers were earnest. I did not care that Tywin did not believe in the gods. I did not care from my own lack of faith in the past years. Now I needed a mom, I needed my mom to be there, to tell me everything would be alright. But my mom had died in childbirth as well. I could hardly remember her face anymore, or what her voice sounded like.

After some hours, my head cleared and my tears went dry. There was no use crying: tears wouldn't move my Lord. Furthermore I was puzzled by his last words -the youngest die more- and, as a scholarly girl, I was soon annoyed I couldn't see sense in what he said.

I decided to consult his Maester. The man was older than Tywin and had been there since the beginning of his reign, when Tywin had sent his faster's Maester back to Citadel, accusing him of being an incompetent sycophant. Despite his arched back and bulgy, half blind watery eyes, he knew all there was to now about the Rock and its Lord.

"Ah." He coughed, slowly raised from his desk and motioned me to follow. "I thought it would come back one day. I was surprised it wasn't earlier, with young Cersei." His feet rattled the ground as he led me to a small library. At the end of the room, spiraling stairs went up, and up there was only Tywin's room. "These rooms used to be for the Ladies. But Lord Tytos had given the place to his mistress so Lord Tywin refused to give them to his wife. He wanted me to be there instead, so he could get in the library whenever he wished. He had this special project, back in the time... ah. There they are, his little pet projects. His bony finger trailed against a shelf of paper. A whole one of sheets tied together with red threads. He taped against one at the far end. "This one. The last one."

He took the book and walked to a small desk, half hidden a corner. At his order I opened a window above it. The light flowed when I removed the wooden shutter. A thick layer of dust made it obvious that no one had used the place in months.

Maester Joris put the book on the desk, coughed again because of the dust and told me to read this. If I had any question, he would be in his office.

The cover was a simple sheet with Tywin's spiky handwriting. The title was "W. stat. Y267 -", as if a second date was missing.

On the other side were the words : "Contains :  
One – Statistics for the year. For details see each personal sheet.  
Two – Synopsis of exchanges with the Citadel  
Three – Conclusions for the yearFour – Theories for next year"

On the next page was a list of persons : "In charge centralization : Maester Joris and Aidan, Casterly Rock. In charge inquiries Lannisport : Maester Anton, Septon Kavan, Septon Ancel, Septon Aster, Septa Lysa, Septa Lanna, Septa Arianna, Street Healer Kanodra of Lys, Wise-woman Belline..."  
The list went on and on. There were people from every major town of the West or even villages. I was stunned to recognize the names of the Maester of Fairkeep and of the Septon on the town. All of these people either had responsibilities in their town or were somehow linked to medicine.

The next page was full of column and looked like some kind of accounting book. Only, I finally understood with widening eyes, Tywin hadn't been counting money.

He had been counting women. Or, to be more precise : dead women.

The first column was "pregnancies", the second "non productive pregnancies", the third "death in labor". Then he had detailed everything : the same sheet, taking into account the hair color. Then another one for legitimate birth and bastards. The next one for rich or poor girls, then by ages, number of children already birthed by the woman, if a Maester or a Septon had been there, if the mother was a good believer, if she had wide, average or small hips or breasts, if the birth was near or far from the sea... I turned the pages, but the same column lined up years after years, increasing the number of women as Tywin added more names to the contributors. Some were abandoned (like the one about the sea, or the color of the hair), other were still there, even after the handwriting changed. Obviously Tywin invested less time now in his researches, but he must have given orders for his project to continue.

Now his words made sense. Page after page, he concluded the youngest and oldest women had most chances to die, very young girls of eleven (I shuddered), twelve or thirteen being most in danger. After this conclusion, a small arrow led to the conclusion: "Forbid wedding and birth before fourteen. Do not condemn abortin before fourteen. High penalty for faulty fathers. Double penalty for rape if under fourteen." Others were made, such as "obligation for a wise woman or barber or septa if family wealthy enough", "ask Citadel for better teaching for all Maester", "forbid use of red lilies from Lys = KILL mother, no help, to ban from Lannisport".

I was astonished. After Joanna's death, Tywin had built a whole network of men and woman who reported to him everything there was to know. I opened a book, then another, and found them full of sheets with numerous handwritings. I searched for the one with my last sister's birth date. I shivered as I found my mother, gory details, how she had died, what the Maester remembered about the first three births and the last one. Someone had compiled all this data, Tywin himself at first, then someone else, in a unique way. It was just brilliant, the way he had managed to put all these women in neat, clear columns, then used them to actually try to _improve_ the situation.

I stopped when light became scarce. My belly was rumbling, but I felt I had to talk to Joris. I needed to know more about this fascinating system.

"Lord Tywin wanted to know why Lady Joanna died. We had a young Maester then, called Aidan, who is now an archmaester at the Citadel. He invented this system. "Statistics", he called it. Lord Tywin was very interested. He wanted them for soldiers, but ended up with Aidan working on women after Joanna died. A few years ago, Lord Tywin's project was a big thing at the Citadel because of the scale of his researches. They asked questions and he provided answers. Huge improvements were made in understanding the problems of childbirth. Then, of course, something else became fashionable, Aidan got his seat and my Lord turned to other projects. But he still wants us to get the numbers."

"Did he discover why Joanna died?"

He shook his head.

"No," he answered sadly. "No, he didn't. The statistics proved only one thing : Lady Joanna should have lived. We found no explanation, none at all, other than disgrace from the Seven."

I came back to my room and asked my servant to bring me diner. I did not want to meet Tywin now. My discoveries gave me the will to pardon his outburst and will to delay my wedding, but I refused to be the sixteen, officially non-courted woman anymore. If I couldn't wed now then I could at least be engaged. It would be nice to have a man in my life, to dance with him or walk with my hand on his elbow. I wanted to plan for my next attack on my Lord, yet I ended up curled in my bed, envisioning dreamy, fluffy romantic scenes with a dark-haired, tall and strikingly beautiful warrior. I woke up the next morning, having done no progress at all.

I spend the next morning rehearsing, speaking aloud in front of my table mirror. Then I would feel ridiculous, pace the room, find new arguments and do it again. After two hours, I felt I was only running in circles and decided to try my luck.

I found Tywin in his office. To my best bow he answered with furrowed eyebrows. He was suspicious or I didn't know him at all.

"My Lord, I have been thinking carefully about..."

"If you are going to rant about getting married again, you can stop and go away. I don't have time for this.

"I wasn't going to!"

Of course I was going to. But if I didn't say the m- or w- words, it wasn't that much of lie, wasn't it?

"Then what?

"I understand your position on this subject and agree that I am, indeed, too young."

He raised an eyebrow, as if he did not know if he was to be pleased or ready to be backstabbed with whatever nonsense I could provide. I smiled sweetly.

"I think the right age to marry should be eighteen."

"I agree."

"I'll be seventeen in three months."

"I know."

"I think it would not be tasteful if I was to be married at eighteen without a proper courtship."

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. His breath stuck in his throat, then got out in a soft hiss. He had a thoughtful look on his face.

"I actually agree with you," he said with disbelief, as if he hadn't been expecting anything sensible. I was even more surprised. Could I really persuade him to give me what I wanted? "I'll talk to him."

"You will?"

"I said so."

"You really will?"

I felt as if I had stars shining in my eyes. Tywin, however, glared as if something unpleasant had popped out of my nose.

"_I said so_."

"Thank you!" I could have hugged him, if not for the desk between us. And the fact that no one hugged Lord Tywin Lannister. "I'll behave and..."

"Yes, yes. Now please go away." He waved me off and I left, floating on a little pink cloud.

A cloud that sparkled, because I was young and foolish, and because I did not know my fiancé would soon bath us all in blood.

Two weeks after my conversation with Tywin, I was ordered to meet my Lord in the White Rose Garden. I hadn't seen him for days and was sure he had been avoiding me.

The garden had been created by Lady Joanna. I had heard she had designed everything with her husband in mind, which had always been puzzling: how could anyone be inspired by my Lord to plant flowers was beyond me. Furthermore, the place, left unchanged for years, was lovely and wild, with none of the elaborated geometrical shapes of Joanna's other gardens. Aside from its remoteness I could not find anything here which would please Tywin. Yet he was here, waiting for me, looking somewhat embarrassed for the first time of my life.

"You should sit there," he said nervously. "Under the roses arch. Lay down your hair."

I did as told, only to hear that I actually looked better with my braids. I should turn a little to show my good profile, straighten my back, look kind and spirited but not pedantic. I should not talk about accounting. Or history. Or... actually, I should not speak about anything intelligent at all. The best was to listen and laugh to all of his jokes.

"Are you _afraid_ he won't like me?" I asked, trying to make it sound like a jest. Tywin's advices were beginning to scare me. Who was that man? Surely, he was someone special, or Tywin wouldn't be nervous. My blood ran cold as I understood the truth.

He was marrying me to his son. Perhaps he liked the imp after all and was afraid of my distaste for him. I'd rather throw myself from a tower than marry Tyrion and his short, disgusting legs and arms.

"Of course not," Tywin answered, looking like a wounded chicken. "Just don't mess it up." Then he left me there, alone with my fear.

It made sense. Tywin had tried for years to find a good match for Tyrion, but no lord would give his daughter to a dwarf. Perhaps I was the best he could have. It would add Fairkeep to Casterly Rock and with my lands fully in Lannister's hands, he didn't have to fear a failure of his strategy regarding Lannisport. He hadn't been waiting for me to be older, he had waited for Tyrion to stop being a mere boy. But Tywin had miscalculated. I was a Lady and I wasn't going to let him marry me to a monster. He couldn't! He would hate me for this, but even in front of the Septon I would say no to the Imp.

I stand up and straighten my back, as he had ordered. But it wasn't to please. I needed to feel strong, to let the physical sensation feed my determination. I left the roses to follow Tywin but stopped soon enough when I spotted him, talking in an animated manner with his younger brother Gerion. Tyrion's uncle had always been a strong supporter of the dwarf. Was he displeased by the match? I calmed my ragging breath. Tywin went from annoyed to angry. The volume rose and I was soon able to catch most of what they say.

"... do you _always_ have to try to control everything ? Our father let you chose who you wanted to marry. You got who you wanted, Kevan got who he wanted, even Tygett..."

"So this is the reason why you're being so difficult? Because I refused to let you marry that… The girl was a fucking _cook_, Gerion ! After ten years I dared to believe you had grown up and..."

"And finally accepted the cold fishes you throw at me ? What's wrong with being unmarried? I hear ser Brynden Tully is not married and _his_ brother does not mind. So are Benjen Stark and Oberyn Martell."

"Benjen Stark is a member of the Night's Watch," Tywin retorted coldly. "You are just being ridiculous. I offer you a Lordship..."

"**Sod off!** I don't **want** a lordship, by the Seven Hells, I want nothing from you, much less a wife! If the Night's Watch vows did not include celibacy I'd go to the Wall **just to get rid of you**!"

Then Tywin slapped him, and hell broke loose.

Gerion froze for a second. As a grown man, he had probably never been slapped since he had reached adulthood, and his brother's reaction took him by surprise. But surprise soon wore off and the younger man launched himself at his brother and Lord. The unexpected move caught Tywin off guard and he crashed heavily on his back. Gerion did not let got and instead rose his fist to strike.

Panicked, I scanned the garden until my eyes rested on the tall, lean wood pieces used to guide the rose bushes growth. I yanked it from the ground but my improvised weapon got stuck in branches. By the time I had it properly in hands, Tywin had retaliated and split Gerion's lips. Both men had bleeding noses, but Gerion was still topping and angry. I raised my stick and forcefully struck him right through his shoulders. I was aiming for the head.

The stick broke. The fight stopped, frozen in time. The two brothers threw me astonished glances. I did not know if I was supposed to be proud or mortified: it was so clear now that my weapon was completely useless! I could have hit him square on the head without making much damage. Finally anger won.

"You don't have to fight. I don't want to marry _him_ anyway."

My voice rose, louder and louder, until I literally shrieked.

"You're just a stupid, unambitious worthless pig! You don't even care to try to know me at all!"

"Wait, wait!" Gerion said quickly. He was still straddling his brother, but Tywin seemed all too happy to be forgotten since his younger brother had been winning the fight. "It's nothing personal..."

"How can it not be personal? You just said you don't want to marry me..."

"Let me exp..."

"... all because you don't like your brother..."

"It's not that..."

"... and you don't care that I could be a great person and perhaps we could be very happy together !"

"Calm down, girl," Gerion answered with a soothing tone. "You're the fifth girl Tywin is trying to..."

"I am? So this is all I am to you? I'm not the fifth girl!" I tried to slap him but landed ridiculous, harmless blows, or tried to since he easily blocked them. "I'm not some number on your list! I'm the woman who won't marry you even if you're the last man on the face of Westeros!" I ended up flogging him with my scarf. Tywin was probably trying to say something, perhaps to ask if Gerion could get off him, but I ignored him. "You can go to the Night's Watch for all I care! **I hope your cock will freeze and fall when you're there!**"

I found myself breathless, my cheeks red, and Tywin looking at me as if he'd never heard a girl pronounce the word _cock_. Suddenly we all felt utterly, completely ridiculous, I for my outburst and foul words, Gerion for the whole mess and Tywin, well, probably for his less than dignified position. He was the first to react and pushed Gerion away. He rose and sat, his nose bleeding with profusion now. I kneeled and pushed my handkerchief to his face. I threw Gerion a venomous glare.

"Go find a _cooking girl_ if you want someone's help."

He gaped like a lost fish, then got up and left, holding his sleeve to his own bleeding nose. I was soon left alone, in the grass with a silent and pensive Tywin, until he broke the spell, only to say:

"Well, that was even worse than expected."


	4. Chapter 3 : Of wolves and hawks

A big welcome to my new followers/those who favorite the story: Kairi-Senpai, Pdoo825, Allimba, Mercede216, UnicornzAreReal, Baloo18, arabrabM, Stark-Lannister, Aki Hotaru, girllyingbythesea901 and MyLivelyLove.

Special thanks to Kairi-senpai, Allimba and Slivermist for their kind reviews!

**Chapter 3: Of wolves and hawks**

No one made any comment on Tywin's state. It was as if no one even noticed his black eye and swollen lips. Only his brother Tygett seemed ready to say something, but from my seat at the second highest table in the hall, I spotted Kevan's hand on his elbow, how he softly shook his head, and Tygett went back to his own food. Gerion had somehow disappeared.

Depressed as I was, I had decided to find solace with my family. My sisters hadn't seen much of me lately and I soon remembered why : Jeyna, the oldest, was fifteen and as mean as any teenager can be with someone who somehow represents authority ; Daena and Eiline were ten and nine years old, clearly too young to understand anything of my plights. Right now, I was too depressed to wish for love and cute little stories.

I wanted solutions. I wanted to club Gerion on the head. I wanted Lord Paramount Tywin Lannister to replace him with a prestigious, strong, intelligent and sensible match, or I would find one myself at Kevan's next birthday.

I dropped the conservative dresses for something more fitting. My newest dress had more cleavage and, with the tighter waistbands, my maid managed to make my breast look bigger. I asked her for a hairdressing I had seen on some beautiful women at court, put some jewels on and actually stole some perfume from my sister. For once Jeyna, the smiling, giggling and much loved Jeyna would not be the only pretty girl in the family. I would be seductive, spirited, funny, and of course someone would ask for my hand.

Kevan's birthday had been the classical Lannister's family reunion since Joanna's death. Maester Joris had explained Tywin hated to celebrate his own birthday, and since he loathed Tyrion, the next in line was naturally Kevan. It meant Lady Genna would be there, Gerion and Tyrion would make fools of themselves, Tygett and his wife get drunk and noisy, and Kevan and his beloved Dorna would spend the evening trying to keep Tywin from being a sour party crasher, probably by trying to get him drunk as well. That meant I would have a free ride, now that I was old enough not to go to bed with the children.

I discovered with dismay that being fun and pretty was a lot of work. I knew how to be polite, but not how to laugh to the awful jokes of my neighbor, lord Garrison Prester. The man was older by fifteen years and widowed. He had an heir, a girl, which meant I could win the game if I mothered a boy. He was also a trusted vassal of the Lannisters. Surely, Tywin would accept the match and I could learn to live with his jokes.

Or so I thought.

After half an evening, my cheeks were literally hurting because of the false smile I had been feeding the man with. He drank heavily and finally explained to me that his heir, his nephew, was very good at the new game devised by his squires: stone the cat. When I asked about his daughter he answered that "girls shouldn't rule". Obviously, his will would make his nephew or son the heir. I remembered Tywin's advices about not scaring a man. With time and proofs of my abilities, Garrison would understand he needed me and my help.

The man seemed to understand what I was aiming to. He invited me to dance. I accepted nervously, since I wasn't that great of a dancer, but was relieved to discover he wasn't that much better. It was a good thing, wasn't it? A wife should not be shamed for her lack ok grace by her own man. Yes, Garrison was a great idea, even if his insistence that we should keep dancing when a drunken Tygett asked for the Rains of Castamere was kind of weird.

By then he was ranting. His castle was great and strong, and he had vassals and men at arms, and his land produced wine. I knew this brew was famous for being strong but rather disgusting, so I refrained from any comment. He had great horses. He had great dogs. He stepped on my foot, but he had a great armor too. And he was great at jousting! Since I was short of being drunk myself, I was focusing on the fact that a man was actually courting me (which made me feel all warm and proud) rather than on the man himself. When I went to sleep that night, I was beaming with pride and sure of my catch.

Then I woke up with a headache, remembered the whole night, and hoped Lord Garrison would have forgotten all of it. Unfortunately, I discovered when I was called to Tywin's apartments, he hadn't.

"Lord Garrison Prester came to see me an hour ago. Can you guess why?"

His fight with Gerion, three days before, was almost gone from his face. His black eye had gone from blue to brown to a far more discreet yellow.

"I have no idea, my Lord," I lied, more to myself than to Tywin. I really hoped it had nothing to do with me.

"Lord Prester asked me for your hand."

"You mean he asked if he could court me."

"No. I mean he asked if he could marry you. I suspect he is already planning the wedding, actually."

Tywin never smiled. That was known. But people who knew him could say when he was pleased or amused anyway; here, I dare say, he was having all the fun one could have, while I was still trying to choose whether I should be worried or angry again.

"How _dare_ he?" I choked on some less-than-polite words to define him. "I am a _Lady_! I may not be from a great family like the Prester, but he has no rights..."

"He does. I can give him your hand."

"But I spent the evening with the man! He could at least have... have asked if I agreed! He should have asked you if he could court me, and then at least... at least he could have sent flowers or..."

"Lord Garrison Prester is behaving like the man he is. I thought you were intelligent enough to understand who you were talking with. Now I will have to say no to one of my most loyal followers, just because you behaved like a slut with a man you didn't know."

"I wasn't behaving like a slut," I muttered, yet I knew Tywin was right. I was no Cersei and it was clear, now, that my efforts to be seductive had been mere caricatures of what she could pull off. Tywin waved it off, unconvinced.

"I _will_ say no to lord Prester. But don't be surprise if he tries to... court you. He is not the kind of man who let go easily. I will not forbid it and I expect you will behave like a Lady should. Manage to humiliate him and your reward will be less than pleasant."

"I'm sorry, my Lord."

"You should be. You are still engaged to my brother and I won't tolerate this kind of behavior."

I was astonished. Tywin couldn't be serious! Gerion had made it clear that he didn't want to wed, and I that I didn't want to wed _him_.

"Yes, you _will_ marry Gerion", Tywin answered to my unspoken question. "Like Lord Prester, I can be very stubborn."

I shut my mouth.  
Well, at least, as long as I was to marry Gerion, I was safe from Garrison Prester.

In the next two months, I told myself I should be optimistic. Gerion never paid any attention to me and his relationship with Tywin worsened, though they did not fight again. Lady Genna explained during one of her visits that her brothers had never quite got along.

"You see, Tywin was sixteen at Gerion's birth, and twenty when he became Hand of the King. He had always been very protective of us and couldn't bear to be away while our father was "spoiling" his littlest brother. He managed to get Gerion as his squire and probably did his best. Only Tywin's best usually turns him into some kind of over-expecting, insufferable tyrant. Gerion fought back, and now they're still stuck at playing bad-father-bad-son." She shrugged, drank a glass of wine and concluded: "I don't think this will ever change, anyway."

I wondered if Genna suspected anything regarding my wedding to Gerion. She was certainly more outspoken when it came to her family, but she gave no other hint. On the contrary, Lord Garrison was very clear about his intentions.

He left Casterly Rock three days after Kevan's feast. Two days later, I received a letter, then another one at the end of the week. Both were long, detailed tales of Lord Garrison's days and clumsy attempts to woo me. Keeping in mind Tywin's order to be proper, I answered with a short, very polite letter, hoping Garrison would understand and drop the matter. He didn't and I received a gift instead, right from the hands of one of his squire. The young man had had strict orders to deliver it only to me, as if Garrison feared Tywin would "put himself in the way of our love". The package contained honey sweets dripping with sugar. I ate one in front of the squire and gave the rest to my maids.

I tried to delay my answers, but Garrison did not and kept a steady rhythm of one letter and a gift per week, even when I didn't write at all for two weeks. He came twice at the Rock, once with a warning which allowed me to visit Fairkeep on the very day of his visit, and another one, unannounced. He could not see me since I was "sick with a very contagious form of flue". Of course, I was just being too much of a coward to get out of my room and confront him.

After a month, he tried again to get Tywin's approval. The Lord of the West rebuked him, then ordered me to put an end to the situation, again without insulting Garrison. I sent Garrison a mild, polite and, I hoped, clear letter stating that I wasn't interested, all in veiled and kind words. Obviously my words were clear only to me, for he sent me a fancy, jeweled necklace, a set of ribbons and the promise that he would come and visit soon. I wanted to bang my head against the walls of my room but I was certain that things would get better. Tywin would finally convince Gerion to be sensible, Garrison would understand I was already promised, and all would be well. That's how I learnt that one should never expect a plan to unravel without incidents.

My sweet illusions crumbled after four months of unstoppable courting from Garrison, when Gerion was put in jail by his brother. He stayed there for one week, the delay needed by Kevan, Tygett and Genna to persuade Tywin that his decision had its faults ("The most stupid, senseless and humiliating choice your ever made for our family", in Genna's words; Kevan was more moderate and, from what Genna reported, Tygett had simply threatened to "Get a sword and hit Tywin's head until it put some sense into him". Like Gerion, Tygett was sometimes very unsubtle regarding his older brother, but unlike him, he restrained himself when in public.). That's how I learnt Gerion was going to be a father.

The girl was fourteen, with plump breasts and long russet hair. She was pretty despite, or perhaps because of a gap between her front teeth. She was one of the serving girls, though I didn't remember her; I should have paid more attention to the servants of Casterly Rock.

"I swear," I said angrily to Genna, "That I won't marry him. Not now, not ever."

I had not dared to say so to Tywin. Genna patted me on the shoulder and asked me if, really, I wasn't expecting too much of men in general.

"She's a fucking serving girl. Why would I want a man who'd rather have a serving girl than me?"

"Because he can't have you, my dear. The girl was available when my brother wanted something warm in his bed, that's all. Many husbands have bastards, you shouldn't feel bad about it: you're not even officially engaged, so it's not insulting to you."

I thought Tywin would call me to talk about this whole affair, but he never did. One morning, I woke up to find him in the yard with his personal guard. He ordered Gerion out of prison and rod off to the Golden Tooth, one of his favorite hunting grounds. He stayed there for two full weeks and, when he came back, Gerion wisely exiled himself to Kevan's household in Lannisport. Not that Kevan was happy to welcome his brother and mistress, but Tywin would not allow Gerion away from his lands.

There was one improvement for me, though: out of patience, Tywin put a definite end to Lord Prester's courtship. Garrison left the castle with a dark, thunderous look on his face. His glare was foreboding: he would make me pay one day. I shivered and retreated to Maester Joris' library, only to hear Lord Lannister had left again during the day, as if he hadn't quite managed to steam out the fury of his brother's treason.

Since I was now sentenced to a life with Gerion, I decided to take interest in his hobbies. I wasn't interested in whoring and it would be highly inappropriate to learn to grab a sword. It left me with ships and hunting, and ships smelled like fish.

I found a knight ready to help me. His name was Ser Tyssel Greenfields. He was related to a lesser branch of the Lannisters by his mother, but his family held no lands apart from a big farm and half a small village in the countryside of Lannisport. He had been squired by one of Tywin's most trusted knights and a part of his household ever since. He looked kind and friendly enough to teach me and was renowned for his capacities with a bow. Yet with all his patience and kindness, I managed to make him run out of it when he tried to teach me how to skin a rabbit. I was hopeless at scouting, could not shoot straight and could not keep my skirt away from thorns and branches. Tyssel finally conceded the truth: I could ride a horse properly, but it was probably the only talent I would ever have that had anything to do with hunting.

Out of desperation, Tyssel got me a hawk. Since the bird would be doing all the work, my protector hoped the result would be less of a disaster. The beast had all shades of grey and looked mean enough to kill every single rabbit in the Western Lands. I think she knew I was more afraid of her than her of me but Tyssel had a strict hand and handled the bird with enough confidence for two.

To my utmost surprise, I actually took a liking in Greywings and falconry. After three weeks I wasn't afraid of the bird anymore and could actually bring some game back to Casterly Rock. My stomach stopped to lurch at the sight of blood and now, when Greywings soared in the air, I could feel the tingle of excitement as I anticipated her dive. I forgot completely the septa constantly following us. I spent less and less time studying and found myself seeking Tyssel for advices. Gerion disappeared from my mind, as did Tywin's shadows in the last days of freedom I had before his return.

He showed up unexpectedly. Tyssel and I were preparing to leave: I had already climbed on my horse's saddle and the knight was handing me Greywings when a chorus of hooves on a paved path disturbed the happy chatters of the Lannister household. Four horsemen came in galloping and stopped in the middle of the yard. It took me a shaming amount of seconds before I finally recognized Tywin.

He was clad in a simple chainmail, not shinier nor prettier than those of his escort. A dirty cloak hung from his shoulder under an out of place wolf pelt. I couldn't remember seeing my Lord with wolf fur, and then it struck me: he had probably killed the animal himself, during his hunting trip; nothing else made sense. An iron helmet covered his golden, greying hair and a scarf of brown wool lazily embraced his neck. He dismounted wearily, like a man who rode for a whole night with no sleep. I had no time to dismount to greet him before he disappeared inside the castle. His men led their and his horse to the stables. Tyssel and I exchanged a long glance.

My knight got on his own horse but, this time, our minds weren't on the hunt. We faked light hearted laughs and interest in our hawks' quest for game, but I suddenly felt like a liar or a traitor. I was missing something, a detail that would reveal an unpleasant truth. I came back to the castle feeling empty and worried.

Tywin got out of bed in the middle of the afternoon. I was called to his room and found him in the same dirty clothes, picking at a cold, half eaten chicken. A quill rested between his fingers, the tip darkened with ink, yet unused.

"I forgot to greet you this morning."

He slowly put the quill on the table.

"Who was that man? With the hawk?"

"Ser Tyssel Greenfields, my lord. He has been teaching me falconry for the past weeks."

"And I wasn't aware. How out of touch I am getting."

His mouth twitched in what could be called a smile, coming from a man who never smiled.

"Falconry. Why falconry ?"

"I fear I am useless at hunting and ships are boring."

"I fail to see why you would take a sudden interest in hunting or ships."

I wished I could forget.

"Your brother is rumored to like both."

"Ah. Dear Gerion. Yes, he likes to hunt. That doesn't make a good hunter out of him."

"I heard…"

"What?"

"I heard he was very talented."

"He can ride a horse. Draw a bow. Stalk a deer. But this is not why I wanted to speak to you. Tomorrow, ser Tyssel will leave for King's Landing, where he and the soldiers coming with him will replace some of my daughter's guards."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Five minutes ago, you didn't know who he was."

Tywin titled his head. Was he amused or merely studying me? He didn't provide the answer himself. I knew this game, when he expected people to answer their own questions.

"You're sending him away because we spend time together."

"You spend a lot of time with Maester Joris as well."

"Then what is the problem with ser Tyssel?"

"You're in love with him. Trust me, I'm doing a favor to both of you."

I gaped like a fish taken out of a river.

"This is ridiculous! He was teaching me falconry, we haven't…"

"Did I say your behavior was improper?" I stayed silent. "You are young and without experience. I am not, and I know you. I am saving you from disappointment and… whatever could have happened. Ser Tyssel will be treated with honor, at the court. Neither of you is being punished. _Yet_." He stressed the word, almost as if he had taken a quill to underline it on a piece of parchment. "After all, all you did was some falconry. Do you know why I am a better hunter than Gerion?"

Puzzled, I shook my head.

"Gerion is a better rider. Even though I'm a decent shot I have to admit Gerion's eyesight is sharper than mine. He is light on his feet, quick with a bow… but slow to _kill_. He'd rather let the deer run away. He is happy enough to know he found the beast. I'm happy only when it's dead."

He took a shard of chicken flesh and put it between his teeth with a predatory grin.

"When you are married, I hope you will remind my dear Gerion of this. My patience has its limits and he should pay attention not to push me too far. At the end of the fight, the one who win is the one who goes for the kill."

I shivered and remembered the wolf. Dead, probably rotten somewhere at the Golden Tooth, its skin draped around Tywin's shoulders as a trophy.

"You can go now. I have work to do."

I left the room and immediately set for Ser Tyssel. I knew Tywin was serious. If he said my friend would be gone on the morrow, then he would be. I may never see him again and couldn't bear to let him go without a farewell. Perhaps Tywin was right and I was in love. Perhaps I only felt the attachment of a friend toward another. I found Tyssel in his room, packing his scarce belongings. I drank his image, as if I saw his full mouth and dark brown eyes from the first time, but knowing it would probably be the last. I would probably see him again, but then, his hair or mine may have turned gray with age.

"You shouldn't be there, my Lady."

"You already know?"

"Yes. Lord Tywin interrogated me about the two of us. Thankfully he believed me."

"This is unfair."

Tyssel didn't pause. His hands went from furniture to bag. His never turned to me.

"We are lucky. He is only sending me away. Nothing bad will happen to either of us. Now you should leave. To have you there, alone with me, is highly improper."

"I don't care if it's _improper_. I don't want you gone!"

He stopped and turned toward me. Gone were the friendly grins and open smiled; his face was as stone.

"Do you know what happen when my Lord is displeased with his family? You saw what happened to Gerion. A week in the cells, then Lord Tywin left to hunt, came back only to exile his brother from the castle, then left again. Everybody here knows he hunts only for the sake of prestige or when he is furious. He went alone. So what do you think? That we should anger him again? Perhaps it's not a wolf that will pay this time."

"And there is worse. A young girl like you may not know what happened to his son Tyrion, last year. No one would dare comment on anything like that. The boy got himself a whore, married her, then his father gave a silver coin to each man of his guard. "Pay the whore," he said, "and give her work." They did. Every single man who was in the barrack at this time. Then he gave a golden coin to his son."

"Now, that is what happens to those who displease Tywin Lannister. He doesn't forget. He doesn't forgive. Whatever we had isn't worth another of his personal crusade against Castamere. I'll go to King's Landing, you'll marry his brother, and both of us will forget we even knew each other once."

He opened the door, a clear sign that he wanted me out. I stormed past him and hoped no one would see my tears.

The next morning, I got to the yard to see him leave. I was only half surprised to find Tywin already there, at the top of the stairs. I stayed by his side, silent, until the twenty men due for King's Landing had left by the great door.

Then, finally, I heard him whisper: "Trust me. You'll thank me one day."

But all I could say as I turned my heels was: "I hate you."


	5. Chapter 4 : Bonds forged in blood

I'd like to thank my new followers : kyla-b, lucife56, wnight, MrsNonCanonPairings, LArunner and LectriceDeChoc.

Special thanks to Baloo18, StarkLannister and 2L d'R for their kind reviews.

**Chapter 4: Bonds forged in blood**

I avoided Tywin for the week following Tyssel's departure and he did not try to see me. Another knight guarded me while I hunted with Greywings. I spent my time outdoors with my bird or buried in books. Shipbuilding, trade and the history the free cities occupied most of my afternoons. I wished nothing more than to finally leave for Fairkeep. Once there, I would be married to Gerion but the one to lead, free from Tywin at least.

After a few weeks, the Rock fell victim to some vicious storms descending from the Iron Islands. For days the sky was at best a gray mantle that hid the sun and, when the weather gave us its worse, torrential rains turned all but the main street of Lannisport into rivers of mud.

Joris shared with me Tywin's concern for harvest. From our windows, we could see the steady flooding of the nearby villages, quickly followed my whole families moving to the city. Tywin opened its gates since the Rock was well above the level of water. Soon enough all yards, the great hall and many other rooms were crowded with people. I was ordered by Kevan to deal with some of the food distributions. He and his brothers mainly took care of the difficult task of keeping order: despite Tywin's orders, a lot of poor people came in without any food, and Tywin refused to empty his granaries. So the food distributions were just enough to keep people alive and I saw children and wives suffering of hunger. I knew Tywin's motive weren't crualty: he couldn't know how long these people would be here and if the harvest was to be lost, he would need stocks for the next few months as well; but since he wasn't making any reassuring appearance to explain himself, it was hard to keep starving parents from anger.

Finally the wind and rain abated. The refugees left Casterly Rock toward their damp villages under a burning sun. I got a gruffy Greywings out of the falconry and set for a long day. The bird showed impressive stamina, obviously happy to spread he wings again. As for I, I was bathing in sun and fresh air after days of dakness, dampness, and the long lasting smell of sweat, piss and shit. I finally got back very late, the muddy roads slowing our process. I was half expecting a talk down from Tywin who would, perhaps, believe I had ran away, but none came and I made my way to my room, covered in mud, my hair a sorry mess, exhausted but in quite a good mood.

I was taking a warm bath before going to sleep when my maid and I heard a weird sound by the window. Amelle investigated since the sound would not disappeared, then explained with an astonished face that Ser Gerion was currently throwing rocks on my chambers.

I wrapped myself in a thick night gown and opened the shutter. Indeed, Gerion was standing in the middle on one of the small gardens running against the walls. I narrowed my eyes. He had been banned from Casterly Rock by Tywin. What was he doing there? And how did he manage to get in?

"Esteill, I need you to get me past the guards to Tywin's chambers. It's important and these _fools_ won't let me in!"

"Why don't you try during the day?" I was ready to close my window. If he was planning to use me to get to his brother with pleas and whimpers, he was deadly wrong. Furthermore, that meant I would have to speak to Lord Tywin.

"I need him _now_," Gerion urged. His voice sounded strained. "Please, Esteill. I know I wronged you, but you've never been _mean_ before."

"He doesn't want to see you!" And neither did I. "What do you want anyway?"

"I'll explain, but not here. Please, it's a matter of life and death."

"Right. I'll come down." I did not believe him the slightest, but perhaps he would manage to annoy Tywin enough to spoil his whole night. A small revenge it would be for Tyssel's departure. "I'll find you by the small door."

I took the time to slip on a mantel and shoes. Amelle in toes, I set for the small door, a stone arch which separated the upper keep and the dungeon from the lower keep. There I found Gerion near his horse. The guards had refused to open the iron gates.

"How did you even get there?" I asked through the bars. Gerion, white faced, answered that he had bribed the guards of the lower gates. "What do you want?"

"I need to see my brother."

"What did you do again? Did Kevan throw you out?"

"No, I did nothing... well yes, he did throw me out, but this has nothing to do with the present matter."

Well, _that_ was new. Last I heard, Kevan was complaining that his brother kept insulting Tywin in his presence and that he wouldn't bear such a behavior for long, but Gerion was still living with him.

"I'm not sticking my head out for you if I don't know..."

"Look, Tywin's _my oldest brother_, he's the closest person I ever had to a father, and _I need him now_," Gerion said, frantic. "I don't have to explain anything to you, alright? I have no one else!"

Something in his eyes worried me. I remembered Gerion as the youthful man with a lot of morgue, always angry at Tywin, always ready to leave, even if he never did. In the eyes of the man in front of me, I could only read fear.

"Fine. Let him in," I ordered to the guards. They did so with reluctance. When Gerion had them prepare Tywin's horse, they seemed ready to rebel.

"You will do as I say," Gerion said. His voice suddenly reminded me of Tywin's, sharp as steel, hard as ice. "Or once I will have talked to my brother, I'll personally chop off your heads."

After that, they did as they were told.

The guards at Tywin's door were less easy to sway, but Gerion ignored them anyway and forcefully beat the heavy door, banging his hand on the dark wood until the Lord of Casterly Rock finally opened. He wore only a long linen shirt, half opened at the neck and that revealed his legs up to the middle of his tights. I was kind of surprised since they were heavily covered with yellowish hairs, since I had already seen both Tygett and Gerion shirtless (mostly due to their drinking habits), and both had been rather hairless.

Gerion quickly passed the guard and whispered to his brother hear, leaving him no time to order his guards to throw him out. It was probably genially important since Tywin's sleepy expression tensed into awareness. A few words were exchanged, too low for me to catch them.

"Get my horse ready while I get dressed."

"Already done."

"Then you'll wait in front of Esteill's room while she dresses. I'll be there in a minute."

Gerion's brows shot up. "Why?"

"Why not?"

I dressed as quickly as possible, not really caring about what I was doing. Something important was happening, else Tywin would have rebuked his brother. I got out only to see Tywin coming toward us, his hands still moving on his belt. His face was partly hidden under his brown, anonymous wool cloak.

We made our way to the yard. There were only two horses for three, but as soon as he was seated in his own saddle, Tywin extended an arm so I could mount behind him. He expected his big courser to bear my light weight without flinching, and indeed he did. Gerion kicked his own horse to a slow gallop, through the small and lower gates, the high districts of Lannisport, until we reached a poorer one. Crafters lived there, blacksmiths and woolers, carpenters and merchants; though it was hardly the poorest neighbourough, it was no place for a Lannister to live. Gerion led us to a relatively small mansion with a closed yard. I could feel the sneer in Tywin's voice when he asked why his brother was leaving _here_.

"Kevan kicked me out."

"Kevan would have allowed you and the girl into his home for tonight," Tywin answered wryly. "Don't dismount. Do you know the street of the Red Throat?"

"I do."

"Go there and find Jon Barber. His sigil would be a blooded knife above a wounded lion. Tell him -and him alone- I sent you."

Gerion nodded and left. We tied our horse. I saw Tywin take a few long, slow breaths before he stepped into the house.

We entered a room which must have been a dining hall. It was big by the folk's standards, yet no as much as my own bedroom in Casterly Rock. A back door was opened and there stood a tall, thin woman, hallowed in the warm light of dozen of candles. Tywin strode resolutely toward her; she moved to let him in the small bedroom. I was startled by how the kitchen wench had changed. Her belly had grown huge, her red hair stuck to her brow and her face shone with sweat. Her bare legs were lazily spread as she laid on the bed. Blood had stained the white, clean sheets and a long nightgown, pulled over her hips. She seemed to be asleep.

"How long?"

"Twelve hours, m'lord. But this, it's the third time she's passed out," the wise woman answered. She shook her head. "Hips are too narrow. When she pushes, only blood com'out. The baby may be dead already.

"We'll move her to the other room. Esteill, clear out the table."

I did as told. Tywin commanded me to put more wood in the fire, find Gerion's wine and warm it, and boil some water. He spread new, clean sheets of the table as I worked. Finally Gerion got back with an old man with a huge, ugly nose which may have been broken at least twice. He was limping from his left leg and missed a finger on his right hand.

"We're the girl?" Jon Barber asked, but he went directly to the bedroom, without waiting for any answer. "What d'you want me for?"

"We'll have to cut her and get the baby out," Tywin declared, to my surprise, with an almost shaky voice. Gerion gasped. "If we don't both are going to die. You know I'm right. Ask the woman."

She nodded slowly.

"I can't do anything more for her. M'lord is right, though I could have made the cut myself."

"No," Tywin answered with the utmost determination. "We'll need you to take care of the baby while Jon sews her."

"You hope 'am going to stitch her like your boys in Cast'mere ? I told you young'lord, the east's no good to you and what silly idea did you get in King's Landing again?"

"They do it in Braavos..."

"Braavos!"

"And Pentos. It works sometimes. I'll pay."

"You could give me shit, I'd still try if _you_ say it can do some good." He focused on the girl. Her eyes were half open now and her lips moved slightly, begging for some water. The woman indulged her while Jon, now obviously in charge and not caring at all about ranks, gave his own orders.

His eyes flew to Gerion, whose skin was starting to look greenish. Dismissing him, Jon went to me.

"Does this one knows anything about surgery?"

"I don't."

"Wash your hands with the wine. In my bag you'll get needles and thread in a pouch. You'll prepare these and give me all instruments I'll ask for. You, show me your hands," he said to Tywin. He grabbed them harshly, turned them as he praised the clean cut of the nails. "Short and clean. That would do. Does anyone has a scarf? Yes, perfect. Tie this on your hair and mouth, then wash your hands twice."

As he spoke, he put on a leather apron and a scarf on his own head. In any other instance Tywin would have looked ridiculous, with my blue scarf wrapped around his brow, but there was an atmosphere of dead seriousness. Jon's authority seemed to get everyone moving, and the wise woman looked like she could read into his mind. She and Gerion undressed the girl and carried her to the table.

I turned my back on them and tried to direct all my attention to my work, but I heard the girl whimper, the wise woman or Jon's orders. My hands trembled; I felt drowned in a nightmare. Gerion left when Jon cut the skin. I heard the woman say that the baby didn't breathe, and that something was missing from the placenta. She left too. Jon ordered Tywin to keep the wound open while he searched for the missing parts. Finally he called me to bring the needles, and I saw the girl.

Her belly was an open wound, red and black by the candle light. Her body was numb, her eyes closed, her lips parted and unmoving. But the gash, the bloodied skin and sheet captured my gaze, my mind, my will. I put the trail on the table. My limb felt heavy, my head hot; blood rushed and tickled madly the tip of my fingers.

I left the room and threw up on the ground of the yard.

The emptying of my stomach lifted the height and warmth. I felt lighter as I went back to the walls for the mansion and sat on a stone bench. Stars shone around a full moon. The summer air was pleasant, warm yet not too hot, a bit humid from the rain of the past weeks. The smell of the city itself was far from the usual stench. I spotted a cat, walking at the top a roof, black against the dark blue sky. I breathed deeply, relieved to be away from the stuffiness of the house.

"You must think I'm pathetic, aren't you?" Gerion asked. He sat on the bench near me, just a foot away from me. His head hung; he smelled of defeat and shame. "It's all my fault."

"Tywin's there. He said it works sometimes. He'll make it right."

"Yes. He will. The Great Lion of the Rock will make it right, like he always does. He'll fixes my mistakes, right?"

I couldn't find any answer. In Gerion's voice I could hear regrets, envy, pride and bitterness. He sounded like he hated Tywin from being there and supportive; like he hated himself for this hatred, for his own weakness; like he hated the Seven themselves. Yet I knew, deep down, in the core of my body, that Gerion felt enormous pride and gratitude for his brother's presence.

"I didn't do it on purpose, you know. She had an easy pregnancy. The wise woman said everything would me alright."

"It's not your fault, Gerion. Tywin did his best for his wife too, and she still died. Sometimes it's just the Gods and bad luck." I put an hand on his shoulder, a natural, almost motherly gesture. I usually didn't like to touch anyone. "You were very brave. Many men would have abandoned the girl in the first place. Many would have been too proud to call for help, or cowards who would be afraid to come back at the Rock."

"I'm not brave. I'm not afraid of Tywin."

"A lot of people are afraid of him."

"I can't be afraid of him because I know he _loves_ me. He'll never hurt me. Or at least, not seriously and on purpose," he admitted.

"It's still not your fault. If she dies, we'll take care of the child. If she lives, we'll make sure she's alright and cared for."

"You would accept my bastard in your house?

"She's your blood. Tywin's, Kevan's, Tygett's and Genna's blood. We're family, all of us. He or she won't inherit anything, but as lords of Fairkeep, we'll have more than enough for both him and our legitimate children. Furthermore, it's not his fault if his father can't keep his cock in his pants. But if I catch you with a woman again, I swear you won't have a cock anymore."

He let out a small laugh.

"Are you always that feisty?"

"No. I'm just very frustrated right now."

"Because of me?"

"Because of everything, actually."

The door opened, letting out the muffled cries of a baby. At least the child breathed now, though none of us could say the same for the girl. Tywin's expression was unreadable, even after he uncovered his face, smearing his left cheek with blood. His skin shone under the moon, covered in glittering sweat. It had taken a white, sickened hue; the blood stood out all the more. His hands were painted red up to the elbows.

"I'm going to check on the baby," Gerion said. Tywin stepped out of the way, but always close to the wall. Once his brother was gone he sat heavily on the bench, his breathing slow and deliberate, too methodic to be natural.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be better in a minute," he answered, but his voice had none of its usual biting quality. He sounded tired, shaky and gulped on his words as if each one could make him throw up.

I unraveled the scarf around his neck and fetched some water from the well. I kneeled in front of him, plunged the shawl in the bucket, then raised it to his face to wash the blood off his cheek and beard.

"I'm sorry I soiled your scarf."

"Don't be silly."

"Did you just _dare_ to call _me_ silly?"

I moved to his hands, bathing his red fingers with slow, tender gestures.

"You _are_ being silly," I said with a smile. He seemed more amused than angry. "Who cares about the scarf right now? You were very brave."

"And who are you now, my mother, congratulating me for some small feat?"

"I'm just an impressed supporter of yours."

"An impressionable supporter, you mean."

"Why?" I frowned. "Is the girl..."

"She's alive. She may still die during the night, tomorrow, or in a week."

"But she's still alive now. Thanks to you."

"Jon did all the work. I'm not worthy of any praise." I sensed no false modesty here, only a weird undercurrent of self-hatred. He closed his eyes and breathed. "I _do_ like you, you know?" His green eyes opened to the sky, almost black in the darkness. "I may even love you as a member of my family one day. I usually don't like people. It's a pity, because if you knew me at all, you wouldn't be _impressed_. You wouldn't even respect, much less like me."

I was going to say something kind, perhaps that he was unwell right now, or a bad judge of himself, but Gerion showed up and somehow, continuing this conversation with a public wouldn't fit. Furthermore, he held the baby in one arm, softly hallowed by a candle Gerion carried in his other hand. He kneeled in front of us to show the small bundle against his chest. In the light of the fluttering flame, the baby was all pink and red, asleep, its lips moving according to some dream.

"She's a girl."

"She's _so_ cute," I blurted out, delighted. She really was a precious little thing, so cute she made me forget Tywin's strange mood. She wasn't my blood, but after this horrible birth, I guessed I was more than happy to be whole, with my future husband's bastard in my arms. "Have you named her yet?"

"I was thinking of Alysanne. It was our mother's name."

"No," Tywin commanded. "Not Alysanne."

"Why? Because she's a bastard, she can't have our mother's name?"

"You knew nothing of our mother. The name carries nothing good. Find something to bring her happiness and pride."

Gerion frowned. Perhaps the nameless girl sensed his displeasure, or perhaps she was hungry. Her face contorted and the beginning of the wail came out of her little pink mouth. He sh-shooed her, but that only made her cry louder.

"Oh," Gerion said. "Oh. Please, don't cry, baby. I don't know what I'm supposed do with you if you start to cry, so please don't cry. Shhhhhhhhhhh."

Now the baby began to scream. Gerion threw a desperate glance at me, but I was as lost as he was.

"Don't look at me like this! I'm planning to have a nurse and... and..."

"You're a girl, you have maternal instincts!"

"You need to be a mother to have maternal instincts!"

"TYWIN !" Gerion half screamed, which only made Nameless-Baby wail louder. "You've had plenty of kids!"

"Don't even think about it."

"Come on, I heard you were fussing around Tygett..."

"No."

"Please!" Gerion tried to shove the girl into Tywin arms, but his brother was still opposing a valiant resistance: "No, get that baby away from me!"

"Do your big brother's duty!"

"Gerion..."

"I'm your vassal, I invoke the right of protection by my suzerain!"

"It's a fucking baby! Give it to Esteill!"

A pair of shutter flung open and someone cried for silence. A dog began to bark. I quickly retreated. I had never carried a baby. What if I dropped her?

"Come on, Tywin, you're waking the entire neighborhood!"

"-_**I**_'m wak..."

"-What are you afraid of?"

"-I don't like bab..." He couldn't finish: Gerion forcefully shoved the bundle against his chest. Tywin threw him a venomous glare but didn't drop the baby. Very tense, he looked at her as if he was afraid that she would jump and claw at his throat. She slowly stopped to cry. He tilted his head. Now, he reminded me more of a curious animal, wondering whether he should eat that thing or let it be. An awkward silence stretched between us. Gerion obviously grew tenser as Tywin's odd expression remained in place. Then the girl blurped, her face contorted and she started to cry again.

"I think your daughter is hungry. Was she fed yet?"

"Err, no," Gerion answered. "Not yet. The woman was, err, milked the goat. I bought it. The goat. In case of."

"You're not as stupid as I thought, then. Well," Tywin lowered his eyes to the baby. A sudden, warm smile stretched his thin lips. "We're going to fed that little wretched beast, won't we?" The girl approved by screaming even louder. "Shhhh. Gods, she sounds like you when you were..." Tywin said as he tried to stand. Tried, because his face suddenly turned white and he heavily sat back. "I'm alright. Just... got up too quickly. Go feed her." His voice sounded hollow. The unusual warmth had disappeared as quickly as it came. Gerion got the baby back from his brother's arms and disappeared inside the house.

As soon as the door closed, Tywin doubled over and threw up. His belly was mostly empty and he was quickly done. He washed his mouth, spat some water on the ground, got up again. His skin was already darkening to a more natural color. "I hate childbirth."

"How do you feel?"

"My head's too hot and the hands too cold. It's getting better, though." I touched his forehead with his back of my hand, but felt only cool skin. Tywin put it away, his grasp firm but not unkind. "Don't worry. I never had a strong stomach for such things. Joanna kept the secret well, but I actually fainted when Cersei was born."

"I don't believe you." The night was starting to feel a bit cold and I resisted the foolish wish to melt against his arm. "It's getting chilly. Perhaps we should get back inside."

"I'd rather not. I'll never get back into this wretched house. You can go if you wish."

"No. You're never talking about Joanna at all. I'd rather stay here, get a cold and hear about her."

"Come here." He extended an arm. I hesitated. Tywin was not an affectionate man, but tonight, the rules were blurred. I didn't know what to do of his mood swings; as I cuddled in his embrace, I almost felt like I was taking advantage of him. "My father always hated blood or violence. He jousted a little when he was young, but he never truly fought. But he was there for my birth, Genna's, Kevan's and Tygett's too. Not for Gerion's, though. My mother and he weren't... well, let's say there wasn't any love left between them at this point. I wanted to be beside her but she wouldn't have me. "You're my son and I'm not some pitiful little creature. I'll have you there the day I'll have no pride left." Still I was the first one to hold him. He was a horrible little baby, just like Jaime. You could get none of them to shut up. But when I had Gerion in my arms, I knew I wanted nothing more than a son of my own."

"When Joanna's labor begun, no one, even my king could keep me from her chamber. I would hold her hand even if she threatened to break all my fingers. I would be the first to see my son. Of course the whole thing lost its glamour when I discovered what childbirth really is." He chuckled, a dry little laugh sounding almost like a bark. "And I fainted. The maester said most men grow weak, but it didn't save me from Joanna's jokes when we were alone. She said I had been _silly_ to stay by her side."

"When she was pregnant again, she made me promise I wouldn't be there. I didn't care if I made a fool of myself. But she had a difficult pregnancy this time, she said, and she didn't want to worry about _me_ as well. When at least she allowed me to come in, she was already..." He looked away. "The maester..." He gulped. "The maester said there had been a choice. Her or the baby. I would have chosen her, even if the child had been perfect I would have chosen her. She knew. She knew and _she kept me out so I couldn't save her_."

Was I dreaming, or were his eyes truly shining? I could imagine water welling up, threatening to overflow. Kept down forcefully, by sheer will alone.

"Mom died three days after Eiline was born. She told me Lords and Ladies don't cry in public. She also told me that one should cry when alone, or he would drown in his own tears."

Tywin hugged me a little tighter. I felt his beard against my hair as he let his cheek rest on my head.

"Did your mother tell you what you do," he whispered, his voice a ragged breath, coming out like a bleeding wound, "when you feel the tears will never stop if you let them flow?"

I took hold of his hand.

"No. She just died," I could have said. But I did not. I didn't try to see if he was crying or not. I said nothing, did nothing.

Sometimes nothing can feel right but silence.


	6. Chapter 5 : Joy

Thanks to my new followers (and those who favorited the story) : Stellarum, Possiblylnsane213, Lady-Kiki-Thevilmastermind, godricismine13, Karichen, vampirequeengoddess, Nalya, jjnnrr, KallH, Pearl's beauty, lizzigreenfield1995, Pattinson's Girl, MrsPhantomSylvia, Fenrirsfag, Pghj2005, Noriko333, DTaylor201989.

Special thanks to : kairi-senpai and pshycogurl335 for their kind reviews.

EDIT : I have been made aware that I was using french punctuation in the text. I switched it to english.

**Chapter 5: Joy**

"You won't stay here," Tywin declared as soon as Gerion showed up again, a dozing baby curled in his arms. "You're going back to the Rock with us and we will find a wet nurse."

The mother was unmovable. She would stay there, but her coming death hung above our heads. I actually wondered if Tywin cared at all if she died or lived. Now he wanted to be away from the place. So did I: either I had to much imagination, or the smell of blood was real. That and the stinking vomit the three of us had decorated the place with. Gerion was all relief and shame, perhaps too tired even to fight for the independence gained these last months.

I got to carry the baby, oddly seated on Gerion's horse. He held me against his chest. His arms were strong and I knew him to be brilliant on the saddle; still, I was relieved when we crossed the small gate. Nameless-Girl was given to a wetnurse, though Gerion threw long, wishful looks at her. Tywin half dragged him away. "Don't make a fool of yourself. You'll see her tomorrow if you wish."

I suddenly felt very tired. A load of bricks could have been dropped on my back without making me feel heavier. I yawned, counted the steps. My apartments weren't far from Tywin's and Gerion's old ones; unfortunately, all of those were located in the upper levels in the castle.

"We should have a drink," Gerion declared. A cheerful grin danced on his lips. "I'm not feeling at all like sleeping right now. Did you have my rooms cleared up?" he asked Tywin. Gerion was known to keep all kinds of awfull brews in his chambers.

"Can't you throw a party tomorrow?" I half whined. It wasn't supposed to come out like that, but I had to admit my plea was rather pitiful.

"Not a party," Gerion corrected, "just a drink."

"I'm tired."

"You're seventeen. Girls of seventeen are not tired. Come on. Tywin ? Surely the Great Lion of the Rock is not tired enough to refuse a drink?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"I don't care. I'll lick your boots if I have to. Or drag you. I'm sure I'd win."

"I'll call the guards and have you back in prison."

"Why, on the day of my daughter's birth? Don't be heartless. I ask only for, what... ten minutes and a glass with your favorite brother, to raise a toast. On the Seven I swear I'll leave you alone after _one_ glass."

His big blue eyes grasped my glance. He looked so eager, so cheerful it almost broke my heart to think I could go to bed right now. One glass couldn't be bad and we could still sleep tomorrow morning.

"If my Lord comes with us. It would be highly improper..."

"SEE! She wants to come. Please, Tywin, you're not going to make our dear Esteill sad, _aren't you_? She's going to be your sister. You should be kind to her."

Tywin rolled his eyes.

"Will you stop talking nonsense if I agree to one glass?"

"As you command, My Lord," Gerion bowed mockingly, then offered me his elbow. "Please follow me, My Lady." Again, Tywin looked like he was struggling to decide whether he should be annoyed or amused by Gerion's antics.

Even if his rooms had been empty for months, everything was clean. Gerion actually complained that someone must have tidied everything while he wasn't looking. "If they took my bottles away, heads will roll," Gerion promised while he disappeared behind a small door.

"I should have given that order," Tywin sighed.

Gerion made a face. He had a red, round bottle in his hand. "You really don't know what's good for you, do you? These are the best potions from the Free Cities and beyond. Tell me you'll at least make some efforts to appreciate the gift."

He filled three little glasses with a transparent pinkish liquid. I raised one to my nose. It smelled of sugar, fruits and flower.

"Lessandra's Blood. She's a goddess of love and passion in Volantis. You swallow it whole or it's bad luck. May my marriage bring us joy!"

I did, and barely kept it down. The Blood burned the throat up to the nose. I felt my belly grow warm. The fruits and flowers, though, left a pleasant flavor on my tong. Gerion started to refill our glasses with another bottle, that one fully transparent. The "potion" was colorless.

"Liquor from beyond the Wall."  
"May your daughter grow healthy and fair!" I clamored, raising my glass.

Tywin coughed violently and I fought back tears. If the Blood had been a bit sweet, this one was dragon fire. So much fire I couldn't actually remember its taste: my mouth was sedated and trying to recover from the brew. Tywin mutter something which sounded a lot like a death threat, and only made Gerion laugh. "The first one is always awful. The second taste great." And he refilled our glasses and yes, the second one was a lot better. One glass turned to be ten or twenty, toasts became less and less intelligible ("May you and your wife have many sons," Tywin said ; one the ninth or eighteenth glass, he was high enough to say something which sounded awfully like "Let's all go to Essos and capture lions and give them to our heirs !" But I was so drunk it could really have been anything else.). I was giggling uncontrollably while the two brothers tried to beat each other at who would drink the most. Or perhaps I dreamed that part.

I woke up with a splitting headache.

Someone was snoring a feet away from my face. I opened my eyes, closed them, opened them again.  
Tywin Lannister was snoring a feet away from my face. Rather loudly. And his breath smelled like a small animal had died in his mouth.

Someone (Gerion) was sleeping behind me. He too was snoring, though it was nothing compared to his older brother. His arm was circling my waist and his chest pleasantly warmed my back. I turned a bit. I shouldn't have, since I discovered he was drooling on my hair. I gently pushed his arm away and sat slowly to avoid waking them.

Their likeness was even more striking. Gerion was a smiling man who couldn't stay still. He was thirty but I could already guess how his face would age: laughing lines would circle his eyes and mouth. He kept his face well shaved and his hair cut just above his shoulder. Tywin, on the contrary, never smiled. He was hard, unblinking, his face as stone, carved in the mask of an impressive king. They couldn't be more apart in minds, yet now, asleep, they could have been twins if not for the age gap between them.

I crawled out the bed, then to the bathroom. A small glass mirror from Braavos hung against the wall, a bit too high, but not enough to spare me. My hair looked like a lion's mane, half flattened on one side, and my pale skin now looked a bit grey. I guessed my breath smelled as bad as Tywin's, but at least I was still fully clothed, unlike Gerion, who had lost his shirt at some point. I was both hungry and nauseous and dreamed only of my own bed.

"Hi."

Startled, I felt my heart miss a beat. I turned on my heels and discovered a half-naked Gerion at the door. He was disheveled, his blond hair curling at the tip near his collarbones. His muscled chest was hairless apart from a thin, golden line on his navel. He stretched; would the Warrior be a better sight to behold in the morning sun? He yawned and scratched his bottom.

"How do you feel?"

"Like the Battle of the Trident is replaying in my skull. And you?"

"Great. I'd love to joust right now." He stretched again and made his muscles roll under his skin. Gods, how could he be that handsome? The man had the brain of a bird! "Don't think my dear brother will be ready for anything thought. Look like my dothraki brew was a bit too much for his delicate constitution." White teeth flashed. "You can't hold your liquor."

"I'm not a drunkard, that's why. What time is it?"

"Dunno. Mid-morning, perhaps."

I sighed.

"So everyone is likely to see me coming out of your room."

He shrugged.

"You're my fiancée. Let them talk."

"I did not agree to marry you yet."

"Yes, and we all know that's going to change everything, don't we?" He raised an eyebrow. "You could do worse. How's Garrison Prester?"

_And I could do better. I could have married Ser Tyssel, _I thought.

"I thought the matter was settled yesterday."

"It is settled that we're going to be married one day, and when it happens your daughter will me welcome in my home. It seems you're forgetting some important step."

"And that would be?" he asked, genuialy puzzled.

"_Courtship_."

"Ah."

"Yes. "Ah", like you say. It would be nice if you deserved this wedding, don't you think?"

"Are you telling me I'm not worthy of you?" Gerion asked, astonished. "I'm a _Lannister_!"

"Do you want everyone to whisper behind our back that you're Lord of Fairkeep because Lord Tywin gave you a big stony gift?"

"No."

"Then we could at least try to make them believe we're getting married because you're a great man and we're madly in love."

"No one will believe that."

_Sure. No one will if you keep acting like a spoiled child_.

"Then do it for me. It would be nice to be courted by someone who isn't old and stupid."

"Well..." He looked like he wanted to say something vaguely unpleasant. "Alright."

"You were going to say..."

"It's not important."

"We should be honest with each other."

He sighed.

"You've not been courted for two reasons. First, Tywin was looming over you like a watchdog. It was known he would pick a match. The second reason is that you look like a female copy of him. With brown hair. And younger."

I never thought this could be bad, but the sad look on his face...

"Lord Tywin is a great man," I could only say in a strangled voice.

"Oh yes. A great, well respected man. He is also thrice your age, a man, and no one likes him as a person. Men want to marry a girl they will _like_. You're not making it easy... you're actually a bit scary." He gave me apologetic look. "You asked."

"I did." I felt like crying, but Ladies don't cry. Not in public. "I'm going back to sleep, if you don't mind."  
"You can have the couch, if you..."

"In my own room."

"You said..."

"Let them talk."

I went back to the room. I missed my mantle and shoes. The first one was easy to find, cleanly folded on a chair; as of my shoes, I had probably tossed them somewhere. I finally found one under the bed and the other one right in the middle of the chamber.

I trotted back to my own chambers, meeting a few guards and bedmaids on the way. At least two people saw me leaving Gerion's room. By the end of the afternoon the whole household would know; then guards would talk, maid would cackle while their mistresses bathed or had their hair braided, and by tomorrow evening my noble brethren would talk among themselves.

Well, let them talk, I thought as I slipped under my covers, my eyes wet and burning. I blamed alcohol and the steady drum beating in my skull: obviously, I couldn't feel sad that a bunch of weak idiots didn't like me, could I ?

I skipped lunch but showed up for the diner. Tywin was already there with Kevan and his wife Dorna, his brother-in-law Stafford and his son Tyrion.

Diner was usually a family affair. Tywin had a big room in his apartments dedicated sorely for his meals; he disliked the public feast his father had thrown continuously and would have them only on the seventh day of the week, when he gave earrings to his subjects. His most frequent guests were Kevan and his wife Dorna. Gerion and Tygett were off most of the time or with their own friends and Genna spent time either in court or at the Twins, even if she despised that "old, wretched castle and its inhabitants". Children may or may not be there. When I was younger, I hated Lannister's family diner: I was invited only when Tywin consented to have Tyrion at the table. We would me tossed at the far end of the table and I was supposed to keep him occupied. Since I was disgusted by the dwarf, these evening where a chore rather than a reward. Now that Tywin had made his move toward marrying me, however, I was becoming used to these evening occurrences. He could be a charming guest if he was in the mood, if one liked spirited discussions.

Tonight, however, Tywin looked like he was going to die and drop head first into his soup. He picked at his food without any enthusiasm and nothing Kevan said caught his attention. I didn't know if I was happy that Stafford filled the gap or annoyed: the man was obviously as dumb as his sister Joanna had been brilliant. Even Kevan with his good disposition looked mildly bored. Dorna did not; she seemed to have unlimited amount of kindness stored inside her mousy little body.

"Tywin dear," she said as the servants took away the main dish. He had barely touched his. More worrying was is lack of reaction: he usually berated Dorna for calling him "dear". She would promise not to do it again, and then do it again the next day. Tywin often said she had no memory at all, but since she always dutifully went for "Lord Tywin" in public, I guessed she knew exactly what she was doing. "It seems we are all a bit tired and fully satiated. Would you mind if we send the cake and cheese back to the kitchen? I think none of us has any hunger for it."

_I do. I want to eat strawberry cake, please_, I could have said, only it was obvious she was only giving Tywin an opening to end his misery. He agreed with a nod. Dorna gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You work too much, brother."

"And you worry too much, sister. Though I don't deny a good, long night will do me some good." His jaw was so clenched I suspected he was hiding a yawn. We bade him good night and I followed Dorna and her husband through the stairs.

"You should leave him alone. You know he doesn't like when you try to mother him," Kevan said softly. He always talked softly to his wife, as if she couldn't displease him; even now, he couldn't quite stop to smile.

"He doesn't know what's good for him. You men can't take care of yourself without a woman."

"Can't we?"

"No. Look at that fool Gerion. You know what his problem is ? He never got out of his mother's -and by mother I mean Tywin's- skirts, and mothers are never hard enough on their sons. You will have to rein him tightly, darling," Dorna told me. She patted my shoulder with a motherly smile. "You'll see, he is not a bad man. Now, since you're always somewhere around our Lord, do you have any idea why he looked like a corpse tonight?"

"No," I lied. Neither Dorna nor Kevan looked convinced. "Sleepless night, I guess."

"Tywin can spend weeks without sleeping properly," Kevan intervened. "I haven't seen him like that since we rode for nights and days toward King's Landing, at the end of the Rebellion."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Because if I do," Dorna said, her eyebrows shooting up. Now she somehow managed to look like a little owl.

"He won't answer. You know something."

"I think it's none of our business," Kevan said, "but I'm never going to hear the end of it, so tell her."

"Sleepless night, I said." It wasn't a lie. "Gerion was here last night."

"Was he? I thought his daughter was born last night," Kevan asked.

So he knew. It had been fast.

"She was."

"Tywin knows?"

"Of course he does." _He pulled the girl from her mother's womb and then drank himself senseless partying over it. _"I guess Gerion and he had a... talk about it."

"And _you_ know." Dorna frowned. "You're _hiding_ something. Tu-tu," she said as Kevan was going to say something. Probably that my life was none of his wife's business. He gave me an apologetic look. "How do you know Tywin knows? Or where he was yesterday night?"

"I live there."

"You live like a septa, girl. The whole castle could be talking about it and you wouldn't know. Did Gerion tell you?"

No. Gerion had told me I was scary.

"No. I was there," I admitted. "The truth is that Gerion was really happy and wanted to share. We had a drink in his room. That's all."

"A drink."

Both of them looked unconvinced. Was I that unable to lie today?

"A very long drink. Don't ask me, I don't remember anything."

"You mean someone finally managed to make _Tywin Lannister_ drink too much? And I wasn't there to see him drunk?" She turned to Kevan. "Life is unfair."

"Well, you have your answer now." Her husband looked mildly amused. "It must have been a sight to behold."

"I don't remember," I repeated. The last thing I wanted was to spend the rest of the evening with Dorna, gossiping over Tywin. "Good night," and I darted like some scared deer toward my chambers, while Dorna and Kevan chatted softly in the hallway.

The next morning, Tywin commanded everyone to diner, "dressed in a fitting manner". It meant the ladies would have to spent two hours slipping into expensive gowns and having their hair done (which, in my case, _did_ require two full hours if I wanted to look somewhat proper), while the men would look like peacocks. Still, our lord loved beautiful clothes, and his family mostly shared this trait.

I decided for a light, summery white dress I hadn't wear for three years. It had been a gift from Genna, but the (actually rather modest) cleavage had kept me from donning it. Now it was a bit too tight at the chest. According to my sisters, it made my breasts look bigger, while the flow of the soft fabric hid the rest. How it was supposed to make me more desirable for Gerion, I had no clue, but Jeyna was adamant.

"Sometimes, you must hint at what a man may have," she said. I refrained from asking how the hells she could know something like that. "We should have your hair up, so he will have a good view of the top, and see nothing of what's under that silver ribbon," she added, tracing my waist with her finger. "I wish I was invited.  
"Oh no you don't," I reacted. For once, we were friendly with each other. I wanted to keep it that way, and could not bear to imagine Gerion's eyes on my beautiful sister. "It's usually boring and you would end up sited with _Tyrion_."

"I would, if that meant Lord Tywin knew I actually existed. You will be marrying his brother. It's unfair you're getting such a match while I'm betrothed to no one."

"Lord Tywin won't be betrothing you, silly. _I will_. I am the Lady of Fairkeep and the head of this family."

Jeyna snorted.

"You talk like that, but you never decided anything. Lord Tywin does. And once you're married, you'll do what Gerion tells you to do, and Gerion will do as his brother commands. You are silly if you think it will happen otherwise."

Her words burned. Gerion hated his brother, but had ran for him the moment things went wrong. I wasn't known for his love for administration, but that could change once he would be in Fairkeep.

"Shut up and fixe my hair," I answered sourly, picturing the look of victory upon Jeyna's face. _Come on. Laugh. At least __**I**__ have a chance to rule one day. You never will, bitch. _

Tywin's dining room, to my surprise, was fully decorated with draperies to the colors of the Mother, a soothing, almost violet blue. The plates and goblets were made of porcelain; we ate in gold plates from times to times, but the porcelain had been purchased for his mother's wedding, a full set from Asshai, and as expensive as it was fragile. Genna had told me: I had never had the honor of even seeing the delicate set before.

Gerion immediately came to my side, splendid in his doublet of dark, blue velvet trimmed with grey threads. Tall, slim, with square shoulders and long, gold hair, he was stunning. I could not help but smile foolishly went he offered me his arm, which I accepted before I could even utter a thought. Despite Genna's, Dorna's and Darlessa's most magnificent dresses, I felt like a queen.

The room was packed with Lannisters. Apart from Tywin's close family, cousins from Lannister and beyond were invited. I was surprised by the appearance of his nephew Daven who, in my memories, had been a rather ugly youth with more spots than one can count. Now he looked like a man, with square shoulders a short cropped beard. When we finally sat, there were thirty three of us and a dozen of children at the far side of the table.

I was rather pleased by my place. Tywin sat alone at one end, with Kevan at his right and Genna at his left with their husband and wife, thought it was obvious Tywin disliked Emmon Frey. Then came Tygett and Gerion... and Darlessa and I. Never had I been so high on his table, and the honor made me blush. I felt I belonged to the family, to his close circle; meanwhile, Tyrion sat as far as possible, so far his neighbor was actually a ten years old boy with pretty curls.

The feast was wonderful, beginning with the traditional western cold dishes: salads with vegetables, apples and pears. The second course was poultry with warm vegetables, the third venison in wine and red berries, the fourth fish backed in lemon and spices. Then came the onions soups, thought it was from those of the commons: one could taste expensive pepper, wine, a perfect balance of herbs, with crusty chips of bread and cheese on the top. The sixth course was cheese, the seventh a marvelous swan made of cream and cake.

The children left and we went to Tywin personal salon for some tea and liquor. A fire roared in the hearth, bathing the room in red, warm shadows.

"We have assembled here tonight in honor of a new addition to our family," Tywin said, raising a glass of bloody crimson wine. "To my brother's daughter, with the _hope_," he stressed the word as if to make an order out of it, "that she will be followed by many _legitimate_ children."

There was a loud cheer. The wetnurse came in, a small bundle in her arms, and deposited the baby in Gerion arms.

His daughter. Suddenly, I wondered if the mother was still alive.

The girl went from arms to arms and begun to cry when she reached Tygett's. He quickly half tossed her into Gerion's, but she only wailed louder, until Genna took control.

"She looks a lot like you, if you forget the red hair," she said, shooshooing the babe. "She has your eyes."

"And your voice," Tywin added. "You were an awful baby."

"So they say," Gerion answered. "But you were at King's Landing when I was born, weren't you? You were a squire to Prince Jaehearys..."

"Not for the first six months," Tywin corrected. "I was given leave." His tone was definite and the conversation moved to the baby blue eyes, and how her hair would make her look like a Tully.

"He literally lived by your cradle," Tygett laughed, when Gerion took him away. His cheeks were beginning to redden with wine. "Father and mother never did, but Tywin was always hovering over you. It's strange, actually. Father had always been very affectionate with us. Mother was sick so it doesn't count."

Gerion seemed troubled. As for I, I was surprised they never talked about this at all. Tygett just shrugged. "You can't try to understand Tywin's ways. Sometimes he just acts very weird, as if he had a heart beating somewhere, but then he always remembers he's only got gold inside his chest. You were always his favorite anyway, thought you've done nothing to deserve it."

"Is there anything wrong?" I asked once Tygett had gone. "This feast is for you. You should be happy."

"He never told me he was there when I was a baby. I can't understand why."

"Tonight is not the time."

"You are right. We should... I should ask later." He smiled again, but it smelled like false perfume. Gerion wasn't a natural liar. "It's just that no one ever talks about Mother," he whispered, "And I can't picture Tywin acting that way without a reason."

"Your mother was sick. Maybe she asked him."

In fact, I didn't care about the subject. The baby was crying again somewhere in the room, I was starting to feel tired, and I felt like I was really missing the point. What was the problem with Tywin being very clingy with his baby brother? It was well known he was overly present for his family.

"Do you have any news about the mother?"

He nodded.

"She is still alive. She was briefly awake today. However, she is not wholly out of danger yet."

"This is good news," I said, as the baby was finally taken away. "Did you find a name?"

"Yes. I was going to tell everyone at the end of the evening, but since you and I..." He coughed politely. "I decided for Joy."

"It's very pretty."

That night, I slept fitfully, until a most shining sun came poking against my window. It was a perfect morning: singing birds, blue sky and, as soon as my handmaid opened the shutters, I could feel a soft, refreshing wind. The storm was all but forgotten.

I opened my door to find a bouquet of white roses right at my feet, dressed in green and blue ribbons.


	7. Chapter 6: The hunt for the white deer

So… that was a long wait, and the chapter is small. I'm sorry for the delay and the lack of quality and will try to do something better next time but, as I explain to some of you my PM, I am currently doing a very intense traineeship in the wonderful realm of diplomacy. I had neither the time nor the brain resources to do better, so something not-so-good is better than nothing.

The next chapter should be a return to normal. I'll have more time to answer to PM and reviews, so please, feel free to come back to me with your feedbacks!

**Chapter 6 : The hunt for the white deer**

For the next few weeks I truly felt like those young girl in the songs.

Sometimes, it seems the whole world conspires to make life perfect, beautiful, as if one lived in poetry. The long summer was only beginning and we, Lannisters, were at our peak; some would say we went higher, but I would disagree, perhaps because everything is at its purest while we're young.

Tywin Lannister was steadily becoming the most powerful Lord in the realm. The Crown became more and more indebted to him. Queen Cersei, rumored to be the prettiest Lady in Westeros, was now mother to three perfect children. Dorna announced her pregnancy. The Lannister fleet cruised as far as Asshai to trade and our fields were dressed in the gold of ripe wheat. At Casterly Rock, the sea roared in the Mouth of the Lion, whose head was crowned by the thousands flowers of Joanna's gardens.

Those times were the stage of first love blossoming. I am not afraid to use such sappy words: I truly felt in love, and still think Gerion probably felt something as well. It wouldn't last. It never does, anyway, since marriage is hardly the easiest battle to fight.

Far from the difficulties we would meet in the next years, our first weeks were song-like perfect. More often than not I would get flowers during the day, either in front of my door when I woke up or at my desk while I worked. Gerion stopped to dance with other women, though he indulged the girls of his family. Suddenly he knew my schedule by heart, my favorite colors or dishes, my tastes in books. We went as far as going to do some falconry in the Lord's Woods, where he stole our first kiss.

What truly won my heart was the white deer.

The great hunt had been organized for Lord Leo Leffordof the Golden Tooth. He was one of Tywin's few friends and not unlike him: tall, very fit for his age. His head was balding but not his raven-black beard. Usually the Lord of Casterly Rock came to his land to hunt, not the contrary, but this time a white deer had been spotted in the woods near Lannisport. I had planned to follow the men from afar, as did the women who liked to ride, but I was plagued in the morning by the painful ache of moonblood. My legs felt heavy and weak when I went to the courtyard to see them go, and I went back to the warmth of my bed before their departure.

I felt slightly better by the afternoon, but only the women came back at dark. The men, they said, were left camping. None had killed the white deer yet.

I spent the next morning with my sister Jeyna, touring Lannisport for samples of fabric for my wedding. It would be far more efficient to ask the family's seamstress for a dress design, but I refused to admit officially it was going to happen. Furthermore, I couldn't miss that occasion to spend time with Jeyna. Still, at the end of the day, we ordered a few meters of a blue and green woolen fabric from the Free Cities for my three sister's gowns. I frowned at the cost, but decided to indulge Jeyna for once. I was pretty sure Tywin would berate me for the expanse.

Yet... I was to be married only once, wasn't I?

By the time we returned home, the sky was turning from blue to gray. The wind sang of salt and water, a smell carried by clouds from the sea. Heavy drops started to fall when the hunters finally came back. From my window I saw them hurrying into the great hall, meaning I had few time left to dress. For once I wanted to be pretty, afraid as I was that some would call me too ugly for Gerion.

My sister and I finally made our way to the great hall. The men, hungry from their travel, were eating lightly of bread, butter and vegetables while the kitchen staff prepared their prizes for diner. Wine and ale, thought, were already served, and some were already quite besotted with it when we took our seat by the second highest table. Someone was even singing loudly a hastily made-up song about a white deer on an out-of-tune version of the Maiden Fair.

I spotted Tywin at the high table. His main guest, Lord Leo Lefford, sat by his right, next to his daughter and heir, Lady Alysanne Lefford. It struck me that she could have made an handsome match for Gerion, but for one son from a previous marriage: she was beautiful, with a long but handsome face framed by ink black hair. She was a woman of twenty-five, carved in generous curves. But most importantly, she was heiress to the richest fiefdom in the Westerlands, aside from House Lannister's proper lands. In comparison I was a peasant, but either Tywin wanted to be sure Gerion's child would inherit, or Alysanne Lefford was one of the women his brother had refused.

"I heard Lord Lefford wants to make a proposal," Jeyna whispered. The Seven knew how this piece of news got to her.

"Between whom and whom?"

I expected Daven Lannister to be the happy winner of the prize. He was Tywin's nephew through his late wife Joanna and her brother Stafford. He wasn't much in term of succession, but was well educated, handsome and fierce with a sword. They would make a very fine couple. If Alysanne was unlucky, however, it could be Tyrion. I shuddered at the thought.

But Jeyna whispered neither of these names: "Lady Alysanne and Lord Tywin."

"Lord _Tywin_?"

I tried to picture Tywin marrying her, Tywin as a groom, with her hand on his arm. I found it nearly impossible and, instead, I could only remember how he closed himself every time something reminded him of Joanna.

"It won't happen.  
- Why not? Lord Tywin would have an heir to Casterly Rock and the Golden Tooth if Alysanne's son dies, and if he doesn't, Alysanne's dowry is going to...  
- Lord Tywin doesn't care about her dowry."

But did he care about a son ?

_If he wanted a son,_ I thought, _he would be marrying_ me. _At least he would be sure his child got everything_.

I tried to ignore the hideous voice in my head, and how it said that since my mother only had girls, surely I would mother no boy.

I was stunned by this jealousy I felt. My betrothal was to be announced in a few weeks. I was going to marry Gerion, who was young and beautiful and most likely to let me do whatever I wanted with Fairkeep.

Then why did I feel personally attacked by Tywin's possible wedding with Alysanne Lefford ?

The evening was starting to leave a sour taste in my mouth when the feast begun. I ate through the whole thing without appetite or happiness. The sight of Alysanne made me sick; worse was the fact that Tywin seemed eager to fake cheerfulness, shooting half smiles to her, which actually looked like someone was pulling threads to make his lips curve. _Fake_, I thought furiously. _Fake and stiff as wood_. Jeyna surely guessed where my trouble was coming from. I believed that explained the smirks on her face.

I contemplated running back to my rooms when the minstrels started to adjust their instruments. Tywin interrupted them. Somehow, Tygett was standing behind him. If Gerion was Tywin's nearest thing to a twin, when Lord Lannister stood, it became obvious Tygett wasn't. Almost a giant, he towered above the already not so small Tywin. His shoulders were wider by a hand and his arms thick as trunks. Despite his bitterness toward his elders he was Tywin's most prized knight, the chief of his elite, personal guard, and a winner of several tournaments in the melee.

Yet despite Tygett's powerful look, he was dwarfed by Tywin's extraordinary presence.

"My Lords and Ladies," Tywin begun with a clear voice. "Today's hunt finished in a most unexpected way, as most of you already know. We honor tonight the best hunter among us, my dear brother, Ser Gerion."

My satisfaction was drowned by the cheers. I remembered very clearly how Tywin had boasted he was the better hunter. Let Alysanne have him and his claims of grandeur, I spat in my head: tonight, I would take Gerion's triumph as my own. Yet I didn't expect the exceptional taste this triumph would have, until a few seconds later, Gerion came in with his prize.

His _living_ prize.

He held her with a golden cord loosely strapped around her neck. The doe followed slowly, as if impressed by the noisy welcome she got, but in no way as afraid as she should be. She wasn't truly white, actually. Her fur was a light, dirty gray, lighter than any deer's brown coat. As Gerion walked toward my table, I could grasp more details of her: the long, soft-looking ears, the pinkish nose, the grace of her delicate steps. Gerion stopped in front of me and bowed so low he almost looked like a caricature.

"My Lady," he said, and my heart beat so strongly in my chest I wondered if he could hear it. "As I remembered your sigil, I could not bear the thought of killing such a wonderful creature. If this gift pleases you, allow me to ask for your hand."

My answer was drowned by the drunken cheers. I said yes, of course, but for all they cared it could have been no: apart from Gerion and my sisters, no one would have heard.

We left the hall with my three sisters and Tygett acting as chaperones. The deer was to be kept in the godswood, a wild, small forest enclosed with walls sprawling on the bad side of the Rock. While Lannisport flourished on the southern side, protected by the huge lion-like structure, the northern one was colder and wet, windier, and the lands under it more often swampy than dry. From the godswood, through the leaves and branches, not a single house could be spotted: these badlands were drowned at every storm. I knew from Tywin's teaching, though, that the poorest who owned no fishing boat would go there to fish, harvest algae, reeds or leeches and, if they were lucky, the shrimps we rich people ate for supper.

I remembered clearly that lesson. We were standing on a stony natural terrace in these very woods. His gaze went faraway, to the horizon, but not stayed strangely sharp. He knew his lands so well he could see them in his mind, in that part of the blurred horizon where eyes meet their limits; he was focused and his gestures assured when he pointed toward his holdings.

"Further north," he explained, "the earth becomes white and harder. One hundred years ago, a fifth son, Loren Lannister, asked his newly crowned brother for these lands. Since they were poor and, the Lord though, quite useless, he gave them to this man. Loren hired men from Dorne, saltish dornemen, so they could teach the westenmen to harvest salt. In these times all the salt came from the mines of Dorne or the Hills of Norvos, from the salterns of Dorne and Braavos, and in very low quantity from the south of the Reach."

"For the first three years, Loren lost money. He had to borrow from his brothers' and his wife's family. But on the fourth year, he won enough to make a living. He paid his debts in six years. Twenty years after he got the lands, he was richer than any of his brothers, save his Lord. He left his holdings to his first son, who left it to his own son, who, by wedding, bought his way to a castle. He took the name of his wife, Jeyne Farman, heir of her family, and his children now own substantial lands on Fair Island. What should you learn from this story?"

I answered, rather dumbly, that salt was expensive. Tywin was so disappointed he never gave me the solution to the riddle.

I could not see the salterns from where we stood now. Dark clouds hung low and a single drop landed on my cheek. We guided the deer until we found the last barral of Casterly Rock, a huge, tortured trunk, half hanging from a cliffy side. It had been dead for at least two hundred years, people said, but the trunk wasn't rotten or even starting to fall: it looked as if it had died two days ago. I shivered.

"How did you tame the deer?" asked Eiline, my youngest sister. Aged eleven, she was awed by the lovely beast and unaffected by any fear of the dead tree.

"Magic," Tygett answered. His story sounded like a tale rather than like reality: if one was to believe him, the deer had decided not to run away after Gerion had told her about his love for a woman whose sigil was a white stag, and the golden cord had been woven with the hair of seven virgins devoted to the Mother, so as not to scare the animal.

"Drugs," Gerion whispered to me. Eiline and perhaps Daena (who was hardly older) could believe or pretend to believe in magic; I, however, was a grown up. "We caged her and at the end, she had to drink. If not she would have been trashing all along the way."

Now, that explained why the doe looked like she was going to fall asleep.

"I expect she didn't come to you, charmed by your affection?"

I smiled, trying hard to look amused and not as stern as I usually was. But the question made him puff up like a proud chicken.

"We caught her with a rope. The dothrakis do it all the time with horses. Of course, we had to train very hard and even then, it a prodigious feat to achieve. If both of us had missed on the first throw, all would have been lost!"

The "we" sounded pretty suspicious, but I choose to let it go. Tygett was probably the real winner of the hunt, but he had obviously stepped down from the heroic role of being the one who caught the deer to let it befall to his youngest brother. I tried to imagine Tywin letting go of an inch of blood and glory for the sake of Gerion, and couldn't. But then, I tried to imagine Tygett pretending Tywin or even Kevan had captured the deer, and couldn't. Somehow, that peculiar team work couldn't have work another way: it took Gerion's crazy, out of the box ideas and Tygett formidable physical capacities to catch a white deer; Kevan wouldn't even think of it, and Tywin would find the idea ludicrous.

I was pleasantly surprised when Gerion put his lips to my ear and, with a warm breath, admitted my guess was right. He was the one who'd come up with the idea, he added, a bit defensively, but his own throw had missed by a good meter.

I smiled and took his hand.

"I think we should get married in four months," I said. "Maester Joris says most flowers will be blooming by then."

Everything sounded possible that evening, and I had no doubt that, like Loren, we would harvest our own salt.


	8. Chapter 8: Backdoor talks

**Chapter 7: Backdoor talks**

The feast lasted until the guests were either falling asleep or drunk. It was incredible how parties got better when one had a man to dance with, especially one as seducing as Gerion. But he wasn't the only knight seeking my favors tonight: while in the past, only very ambitious second sons dared to ask me out for a dance, now it was like every man in the room wanted a song with the _White Deer of Casterly Rock_. The nickname made me laugh, since most people used to call me the Owl of the Rock due to my habit to glare. I hadn't changed, but obviously, now that someone officially wanted to sleep with me, everyone agreed that I wasn't that scary.

I finally had to make excuses when Jeyna started to behave as a drunken fool. I gave Gerion a short, almost prude kiss, collected my sister and started the somewhat long trip to her rooms. We weren't the first to leave: Tywin and Leo Lefford were long gone, and Kevan had retired when Dorna claimed to be tired. His utter devotion to his big-bellied woman was touching; I hoped Gerion would have the same attentions toward me during my pregnancies.

"So," Jeyna drawled. She didn't need help to walk, but she did look a bit unsteady. "Do you think Lord Tywin and Lord Lefford have finished negotiating the dowry yet?"

"They aren't negotiating anything," I spat. "Lord Lefford is an old friend of his, and Tywin doesn't like feast. They don't need negotiations to talk in private."

"Ah, yes, it's _Tywin_ to you. Your friend Tywin's not your _Lord_, isn't it?" She shot me an ugly smile. "Is it true he's fucking you when you're pretending to count numbers together?"

I whitened with rage. Was that what people thought of me behind my back? I opened my mouth to answer, but the breath stayed stuck in my throat. It was unfair, completely unfair. None of those people knew me, and my sister, who **did** know who I was, should never have believed half of these nonsense.

"Do you really think no one sees how you look at him? Do you think Gerion doesn't see? Everyone knows you're in love with _Tywin_ Lannister, and everyone think he threw you away for Alysanne Lefford..."

My hand flew before I could stop myself. I didn't have much strength in my arms, so the slap did no damage aside from a loud clap and a slight reddening of my sister's cheek. Still, I was ashamed. I had always taken pride in my abilities to argue and talk. To hit Jeyna was only a proof that she had won, and oh Gods she knew it.

"Gerion isn't good enough for you, is he? Every girl in the world would have wanted him! I would have, without a question! But you... you, you didn't want anything else than to be Tywin's whore, didn't you? I'm sure you thought you'd be perfect as Lady Paramount, giving orders like this castle is yours..."

"Enough!" My hand flew again. She tried to protect her face, but I was aiming for the hair. I caught a handful and pulled down, forcing her to bend. "I am no Lady Paramount, but I **am** a Lady. Your oldest sister, the one who is going to make a match for you. Would you like me to tell Tywin I'd happily have you marry lord Garrison Prester? Or perhaps I could sell you to some Ironborn out there. I'm sure you'd enjoy tremendously the life in the Islands."

I let go. She fell on her knee, more out of the wine than because of weakness. My sister wasn't weak. She was already taller than I was, with will and cunning. The fight would have gone differently had she been sober.

"He's an old, cold fish," she muttered. "He doesn't even notice you love him."

"There's nothing to notice," I retorted. "He is like a father to me."

"We had a true father, once," Jeyna said. "A father most of us never knew, but you never talk of him. I'm sure you're not even trying to remember him." She got up, slowly, and started to massage her head where I had grabbed the hair. "_You_ may have a father, but the three of us, your family, _we_ are orphans. You could at least have tried to be a mother to Eiline and Daena."

I closed my fist, dung my nails in my hands. I refused to hit her again, and couldn't find anything to say. Deep down, I knew she was right when she added: "You're a failure."

She resumed walking. I followed, trying, trying so hard to find something to say. But the truth was that I had been in love with Tywin. I wasn't dumb enough not to be conscious of my teenage crush. I had thought no one had known at the time. Was it the real reason for Gerion's refusal to marry me? And then, why did he finally agree? Because he understood I was over with the silly dreams, or only because of my promise to keep his bastard? Did he knew about Ser Tyssel as well?

We stopped in front of Jeyna's door.

"You know, there is a way to know if your dear Tywin is going to marry her."

She turned and faced me.

"Only, I want something in exchange."

"Make your offer," I said before I could change my mind, and decided it wasn't worth it.

"I will choose my husband."

"As you said, there is the possibility that Tywin will decide."

"Then promise to fight for my case. If I end up with lord Prester or a Greyjoy, I'll run away."

"Fine. I promise."

She opened the door and motioned me to follow. Her room was a lot smaller than mine and less furnished, an old, huge and heavily decorated board being the only fancy piece.

"We will have to scrawl a bit, but it's worth it," she explained, kneeling in from of the board. She emptied one of the lower cases, then took out what seemed to be a squared piece of wood. Then she literally disappeared in the cupboard.

I followed her on all four. We ended up in a cramped hallway. By the time I got to her, she had lit a small oil lamp. The darkness and closed walls made me feel claustrophobic.

"Now," she whispered, "we will have to be very quiet. We won't see anything, but we can hear, and so can they."

I followed her up some flight of stairs. The air was damp, everything dusty, and I feared I was going to cough. Finally she stopped. We were at a dead end ; for a second, I thought she had lost us, but then came the noises : glasses tinting, and a conversation resuming.

"I don't wish to be pushy, but I believe you will never breach the subject if I don't and, while that wine is indeed fantastic, I didn't bring my daughter to the hunt for wine tasting."

"Her company is very pleasant," Tywin answered politely. I heard Lord Lefford sight.

"I don't mean to give you lessons. But as your friend, I tell you this: you _have_ to remarry. You can't continue like this."

"Like _this_?" asked Tywin, half annoyed, half surprised. "I'm perfectly well."

"No, you're not. I know you loved her, but it's been twenty years and you're still acting like a corpse. You have to at least _try_ to..."

"I'm _fine_," Tywin stressed. "You can't expect me to be the man I used to be."

"Then tell me what the problem with Alysanne is. Don't feed me with the "I'm the problem"-bullshit, I won't buy it. I know you well enough, I know what kind of man you are, gods, that's why we're friends, you and I. If you're afraid she won't keep up with your peculiars tastes, I can assure you she finds it pretty attractive."

"It's got nothing to do with that."

"She's not your type?"

"She's beautiful and clever. Her husband will be a lucky man."

"Then why are you refusing? You're telling me she's perfect, and at the same time you don't want her?"

"The problem lies with me."

"Bullshit. I told you..."

"It's got nothing to do with my... taste for blood," Tywin said with a somewhat strangled voice. I had the feeling that now would be a good time to leave. He wasn't marrying her, and that conversation was getting far too personal.

I should never have come there in the first place, I now realized. What I did was treason: I was not only spying on my Lord, but spying on a friend, a father who was soon to be my brother. Even more uncomfortable was the silence, a long, heavy silence which could lead only to one result: a painful, very private revelation that shouldn't be heard that way, and certainly not by Jeyna.

Now was the time to get away, but for Tywin who, unknowingly, choose that very moment to spill the beans.

"I'm not attracted by women."

Lord Lefford was slower than I was to react. I grabbed Jeyna's elbow and showed her the way to her room, but she only put a finger to her lips, refusing to move Her eyes gleamed with excitement. We stopped all movements when the older man started to speak again.

"I was there at your wedding night. It is hard to believe that you could be... er... one of these..."

Tywin cut him immediately, more than indignant: "I'm not "one of these". I don't, and never liked men. What are you taking me for?"

"Well, the way you phrased it could lead to that conclusion."

"Only because everyone assumes all males live to fuck other people. The truth is, it's not my case. I've had only two women in my life and, while it was very pleasant, I must admit I was rarely the one to... initiate things." There was a short pause. I imagined him drinking some wine. "When Joanna died, I completely stopped to desire women. I tried twice, but apart from mild disgust... nothing. I expect it would be the same with Alysanne. She is beautiful and of charming company, but put her naked in front of me, she could be Robert Baratheon or the Maiden herself, it wouldn't do any difference. Your daughter already has everything I can give her: gold, power, a strong castle... the only thing she still needs is love and more children, and this is exactly what I can't provide."

"Are you sure you're not into men?" Lefford insisted. "I mean, I've known you long enough not to care, so if you are..."

"I lived with Aerys Targaryen for thirty years. I think I'd know if I wanted a man in my bed," he said, with a stern voice not devoid of humor. It only took a few years of knowing him to recognize the sound. "The only one _he _didn't wantto share his bed with was his wife."

At this, Lefford exploded with a booming laugh. I could finally pull Jeyna away. She followed me, her unhealthy curiosity seated at least. Their laughs echoed in the tunnels, stalking us like demons from stories long past.

Once the piece of wood was back in its rightful place, I let out a deep breath and glared at Jeyna as hard as I could.

"You must never, ever repeat what you heard there."

"Of course," she said, shrugging. "What do you think? I'm not an idiot."

"If you weren't, you would have told Lord Tywin about this long ago. Who else knows about this secret passage?"

"Eiline and Daena, though I didn't take them to this part. They believe it's cursed and their hair will fall if they say something."

I wished I could curse her. The hallways could be dangerous. They could have been caught. But what truly angered me was that Jeyna had taken my baby sisters with her and left me out.

"Never again will you make use of it."

"If you say so," she answered. An obvious lie, but what could I do? If I told Tywin, he would know I spied on him. I knew what he was capable of long before Lord Lefford talked about a taste for blood -whatever he meant by this. He was the man who presented dead babies to Robert Baratheon. He was the man who had a girl raped by his guards. Ser Tyssel warnings' rang in my head, and I knew better than to ignore them.

I had no wish to share this fate, and my contempt for Jeyna did not go far enough to wish her ill. I could only cesommit treason, then, and say nothing while my sisters happily put their nose where it didn't belong.

I got back to my room and hardly slept. It wasn't only the new worries Jeyna had put on my shoulders. I was both depressed and relieved; relieved that Tywin hadn't chosen Alysanne over me, relieved that his lack of attraction toward me covered all women; depressed because I was betraying him and, though I refused to admit it, because it was the clear and definite end to the petty fantasies I nurtured about him.

I woke up tense and ugly. The wine and the sleepless night gave me a ghastly look, while my composure had more to do with weasels than with a Lady. I still believed revealing the truth to Tywin was the right thing to do, but after dozen attempts in my head, I still couldn't manage to make it sound right. "Hi, my Lord. I just wanted to tell you that there is a secret passage in my sister's bedroom, and when she showed it to me, we heard that you're either an homosexual in the closet or impotent, or both. I still respect you very much, so please don't butcher us, since I heard that you like blood and that Alysanne Lefford thinks it's the sexiest thing in the world." It just couldn't do.

Then, I finally made a decision: avoid Tywin until I forgot everything about it. Tywin _and_ Gerion.

However, life hardly ever forgets about you. Today, she chose to remind me of this by throwing at me someone I didn't expect to see ever again: the red haired girl.

She was very thin, with dark circles under her eyes, but her luxurious hair still made her beautiful. She walked slowly, hunched like an old woman, but she was alive and sitting in my chambers.

"M'lady," she said, her voice so frail it could break. "I'm s-sorry to int-trude b-but…"

"It's alright." It wasn't alright. She was a ghost sent by the Mother to punish me for spying on Tywin. "Is there anything you need? Some wine perhaps?"

"N-no, thank you, M'lady. I only w-wished to s-speak with you. About the b-baby. The g-girl."

I nodded. I was suddenly afraid that she would ask to get it back. I would have to say no, obviously. She couldn't take care of the baby. She was disgraced. The only way would be for Gerion to provide for them. Then the red haired girl would stick around forever, forever in my way, forever reminding us that he could have any pretty whore he wished to have.

I couldn't expect to be so far away from the truth.


End file.
